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Edited by G. G. Coulton and Eileen Power 


The Unconquered Knight 

By Gutierre Diaz de Gamez 

Miracles of the Blessed Virgin Mary 
By Johannes Herolt 

The Goodman of Paris 

By A Citizen of Paris 

The Dialogue on Miracles 

By Caesarius of HeiSterbach 

The Autobiography of Ousama 
Anecdotes from English AfS. Sermons 
Anecdotes of Thomas of Cbantimpre 

Published by 




[ front* 

®fje #oobman of 


A Treatise on Moral and 
Domestic Economy by 


(c. 1393) 

Now first translated into English 
with an Introduction and Notes by 

M.A., D.Lit., Reader in Economic History in the University of London 

Published by 




















4 1 

1 Prologue ...... 

4 1 

2 Fir ft Section ...... 


Article I ...... 

To salute and thank God on waking and rising and 
to be suitably clad, 47 


Article II ...... 

To be suitably accompanied, 52 


Article III ...... 


To love God, serve Him and keep within His grace : 
Concerning mass, 54 — Contrition, 58 — Con- 
fession, 60 — The deadly sins, 65 — The seven 
virtues, 86 

Article IV ...... 94 

To keep continence and live chaftely: Of Susanna, 

95 — Of Raymonde, 99 — Of Lucrece, 10 1 — Of 
the queens of France, 106 

Article V ...... 107 

To be loving to your husband : Of the dog Macaire, 

108 — Of the dog at Niort, 108 



Article VI ...... 

To be humble and obedient to your husband : 
Tale of Griselda, 113 — The woman who let her 
husband drown, 138 — Of Eve, 140 — Of Lucifer, 
141 — Of a citizen’s wife, 146 — Of the bailly of 
Tournay, 148 — Of the abbots and the husbands, 
1 S3 — Of my lady d’Andresel, 155 — Of the hus- 
bands at Bar-sur-Aube, 157 — Of a cousin of the 
author’s wife, 159 — Of the Roman woman, 162 

Article VII ...... 

To be careful and thoughtful for your husband’s 
person : Good treatment, 171 — Of fleas, 173 — 
Of flies, 174 

Article VIII ...... 

To be discreet : Of Papirius, 180 — Of the woman 
who laid an egg, 182 — Of the Venetian couple, 
183 — Of a wise Parisian betrayed by his wife, 185 
— Of a famous avocat, 186 

Article IX ...... 

To restrain your husband gently from his errors : 
Of Jehanne la Quentine, 189 

3 Second Seffion 

Article I ...... 

To care for your household with diligence and 

Article II ...... 

Of gardening, 195 

Article III ...... 

How to choose varlets, servants and chambermaids 
and set them to work : Young women using foul 
language, 210 — Care of the house, 211 — Life in 
the country, 21 1 — Divers recipes, 212 — Concern- 
ing servants, 217 












Article IV ...... 

How to order dinners and suppers : The sales of 
butchers and poulterers, 221 — General terms of 
cookery, 223 — Dinners and suppers, 226 — 
Divers matters incidental to the same (fea£I of 
the abbot of Lagny, wedding feasts, etc.) 236 

Article V ...... 

Ordering, devising and causing to be made all 
manner of pottages, civeys, sauces and all other 
viands : General terms of cookery, 248 — Common 
pottages, thin and unspiced, 250 — Pottages, thin 
and spiced, 258 — Other thick meat pottages, 260 
— More thick pottages without meat, 267 — 
Roa£t meats, 267 — Parties, 269 — Freshwater 
fish, 270 — Sea fish, round and flat, 272 — Divers 
ways of preparing eggs, 274 — Entremets, fried 
dishes and glazed dishes, 275 — Other entremets, 
283 — Sauces, not boiled, 286 — Boiled sauces, 289 
— Beverages for the sick, 293 — Pottages for the 
sick, 294 — Other small things that be needful, 
295 — Other small matters which need no chapter, 








3 11 




I Jean Arnolfini and Jeanne Cenani, His Wife. (Jan 

van Eyck, 1434). National Gallery, London Frontispiece 

II The Man with the Carnations. (Hubert or Jan van 

Eyck.) Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin. T 0 face p. 40 

III The Symbol of the Mass. (Roger van der Weyden, 

c. 1436-60.) Antwerp Museum To face p. 56 

IV The Story of Lucrece. (From a 15th century MS. of 

Valerius Maximus.) British Museum, Harl. MS., 

4374, f. 21 1 To face p. 104 

V A Boar Hunt in December. (From Les Tr£s Riches 
Heures du Due de Berry, by Pol de Limbourg and his 
brothers, c. 1410.) Musee Conde, Chantilly 

T 0 face p. 1 14 

VI A Peasant’s Home in February. (From the same) 

To face p, 116 

VII A Betrothal in April. (From the same) To face p. 118 

VIII Hawking and Swimming in August. (From the same) 

To face p* 158 

IX Outside the Walls of Paris : June. (From the same) 

To face p m 186 

X Outside the Walls of Paris : October. (From the 

same) To face p. 190 


List of Illustrations 

XI The Town Garden. (From a 15th century MS. of 

Crescentius.) British Museum, MS., Add. 19720, 
f. 1 65 ¥0 face p. 196 

XII The Country Garden. (From the same) lb . f. 117 

To face p. 202 

XIII Carpenter Making a Mousetrap. (The Mailer of 

Flemalle, c. 1425-30) To face p. 212 

XIV The Vintage in September. (From Les Tr£s Riches 

Heures) Tojacep . 214 

XV The Duke of Berry’s Feast. (From the same) T 0 face p . 222 

XVI The Cook. (From a 15th century MS. of Valerius 
Maximus). British Museum, Harl. MS. 4375, f. 179 

To face p. 262 


The Menagier de Paris was published in Paris in 1846 
for the Societe des Bibliophiles Fran^ais and edited 
by Jer6me Pichon, President of the Society. The 
exadt title of the edition is as follows : “ Le Menagier 
de Paris , traite de morale et d’economie domeffcique, 
compose vers 1393, par un bourgeois parisien ; con- 
tenant Des preceptes moraux, quelques faits hiftor- 
iques, des inftrudtions sur Part de diriger une maison, 
des renseignemens sur la consommation du Roi, des 
Princes et de la ville de Paris, a la fin du quaterzieme 
siecle, des conseils sur le jardinage et sur le choix des 
chevaux ; un traite de cuisine fort etendu, et un 
autre non moins complet sur la chasse a Pepervier. 
Ensemble : L’hiftoire de Griselidis, Mellibee et 
Prudence par Albertan de Brescia (1246), traduit par 
pere Renault de Louens ; et le chemin de Povrete et 
de Richesse, poeme compose, en 1342, par Jean 
Bruyant, notaire au Chatelet de Paris ; publie pour 
la premiere fois par la Societe des Bibliophiles Francois 
(a Paris, de Plmprimerie de Crapelet, Rue de Vau- 
girard, 9, M.D.CCC.XLVI) ” ; the edition is in two 
volumes. Only 324 copies were published and the 
book was never reprinted ; it is consequently exceed- 
ingly rare. 

The Menagier de Paris was used by Thomas Wright, 
F. J. Furnivall and other Students of the social history 
of the middle ages in England, and Furnivall added 
a long note upon it to his edition of A Book of Prece- 
dence (early English Text Soc. 1869) pp. 149-154. 
In the course of this note he remarked “ The book 
well deserves translation into English . . . [it] is 



full of interest of all kinds to the Englishman as well 
as the Frenchman It is now nearly sixty years 
since those words were written, and here at la ft is a 
long overdue translation, of one of the moft delightful 
books of its kind that has survived from the middle 
ages. The original is very long and it has seemed 
beft slightly to shorten it in translation, more par- 
ticularly as it has been possible to do so without 
leaving out anything of firft rate importance. The 
omissions made are as follows : The seftion on the 
seven deadly sins and their corresponding virtues has 
been very slightly abbreviated and some well known 
exempla drawn from the Bible have been omitted, as 
also have the tale of Melibeus and Prudence and the 
long poem entitled Le Chemin de Povrete et de Richesse, 
neither of which is the Menagier’s own work. In 
the seftion on household management a short excursus 
on the points and diseases of horses has been omitted 
and the cookery book has been shortened by leaving 
out some recipes and general inftruftions. Finally the 
whole of the treatise on falconry, which was all that 
the Menagier wrote of his third seftion, has been 
omitted, as being somewhat technical and of less 
intereft to the general reader than the reft of the book. 

My thanks are due to Messrs. Methuen and Co. for 
allowing me to repeat in my Introduftion some 
paragraphs from the chapter on “ The Menagier’s 
Wife” in my book Medieval People (1924), and to 
Mr W. P. Barrett, late of St John’s College, Cambridge, 
who was good enough to translate the greater part of 
the firft three articles of the firft seftion ; moft of 
pages 41 to 72 of this book, including the very 
felicitous versions of the Menagier’s beautiful prayers, 
is his work. I have also to thank Miss Doris Leech 
for kindly making the Index. 

Eileen Power. 



The drawing on the title-page of this bock is taken from a miniature 
in an early fifteenth century manuscript of Le Menagier de Paris , 
which is reproduced upon page 9 of the French edition, edited by 
Jerome Pichon, and represents the Menagier instructing his wife. 

Of the full-page illustrations, eight (Nos. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14 and 15) 
are taken from a very famous manuscript, perhaps the moSfc beautiful 
example of Franco-Flemish illumination extant, known as “ Les 
Tr£s Riches Heures du Due de Berry ” and preserved at the Musee 
Conde, Chantilly. (See Les Pres Riches Heures de Jean de France, 
Due de Berry. Par Paul Durrieu (Paris, 1904), two volumes, of which 
the firSt contains the text and the second reproductions). This book 
of hours was made by Pol de Limbourg and his brothers for that same 
Duke of Berry, whom the Menagier knew and mentioned several times 
in his book (see below, p. 3 1 2) and who was one of the mo£t enlightened 
patrons of art and literature of the day. The eight pictures here 
reproduced are taken from the Calendar, in which some occupation 
appropriate to each month of the year is illustrated ; its peculiar charm 
lies not only in the exquisite execution of these scenes, but in the faCt 
that (with the exception of January, February and November) each 
scene has an architectural background in the shape of a magnificent 
caStle. These caStles are not imaginary, but taken from aCtual build- 
ings, many of them belonging to the Duke himself, and as architectural 
drawings they are unsurpassed. The foreground of No. 6 (December), 
a boar hunt, was borrowed from an Italian artiSt, but in the background 
rises the Bois de Vincennes, with the towers of the caStle of Vincennes 
behind. In No. 7 (April) the betrothal takes place before the caStle 
of Dourdan, which belonged to the Duke, and in the background of 
No. 8 (AuguSt) is the caStle of Etampes, which he acquired. No. 9 
shows peasants haymaking outside the walls of Paris, with the Sainte 
Chapelle, the Conciergerie and the poftem gate on the Seine, and 
No. io (OClober) shows them sowing and harrowing, with an extremely 
realistic scarecrow with bow and arrow in the field behind, and in the 
distance the Seine and the old palace of the Louvre. These two views 
of Paris may well have been those which the Duke saw from his 
windows in the Hotel de Nesle. No. 14 (September) shows the 


Note on Illustrations 

castle of Saximur in a district famous for its vines. No. 6 (February) 
is a little gem of realism, so cold that one shivers to look at it ; in 
such a house, perhaps, Griselda lived. No. 15 (January) in some ways 
the mo£fc interesting of all, for it shows the Duke of Berry himself 
entertaining an ecclesiastic to dinner ; the elaborate tapeStry of armed 
men in the background should be observed and also, at the right of 
the table, the great nef or salt-cellar, which was one of the treasures 
of the ducal plate and known as the “ Sali&re de Pavilion ”, 

Of the other illustrations four are taken from illustrated manuscripts 
in the British Museum. Nos. 4 and 16 are from the famous fifteenth 
century copy of Valerius Maximus, in two volumes, which is one of 
the treasures of the British Museum. (See Sir George Warner 
Valerius Maximus (1907)). No. 4 (the Story of Lucrece) shows at the 
top (left) the rape of Lucrece by Sextus and (right) her death, and 
below (right) the sword, with which she slew herself, being carried 
round Rome to rouse the citizens, and (left) the deposition of Tarquin. 
No. 5 (right) shows a cook plucking a bird in his kitchen and (left) the 
bird being borne by servants to the lord, who sits at dinner in his 
hall, with a birdcage hanging from the roof. Nos. 11 and 12 are 
taken from a late fifteenth century manuscript of Pierre de Crescens 
(Crescentius), Le Livre des Prouffiz Ruraulx, which was translated from 
Latin into French by order of Charles V, during the Menagier’s life- 

The four remaining plates have been chosen from the works of early 
Flemish masters, only slightly later in date than Le MSnagier de Paris > 
for these painters have always seemed to me to combine domesticity 
and piety with the same simple and yet penetrating charm with which 
they are combined in this book. Nos. 1 and 2 are maSterpicces by 
Jan van Eyck (if, indeed, the Man with the Carnations, or Esquire 
of the Order of St Anthony, be not, as Mr W. H. Weale believes, by 
Hubert). No. 3, the symbol of the Mass, is the central piece of Roger 
van der Weyden’s Retable of the Seven Sacraments and No. 13 is the 
right wing of Ingelbrecht’s Annunciation Triptych by the MaSter 
of Fl6malle, with St Joseph as a carpenter, engaged upon making a 
mousetrap and a little Tournai street showing through the window 
behind him. 



i. Le M£nagier de Paris 

The Menagier de Paris (the Householder or Goodman 
of Paris, as we might say) wrote this book for the 
inftru&ion of his young wife between 1392 and 1394. 1 
He was a wealthy man, not without learning 2 and of 
great experience in affairs, obviously a member of that 
solid and enlightened haute bourgeoisie , upon which 
the French monarchy was coming to lean with ever- 
increasing confidence. He had travelled widely in 
France and Flanders 3 and he speaks of certain of the 
great men of the day in the terms of one who knew 
them personally, Jean sire d’Andresel, with whom he 
was at Niort, Bureau de la Riviere and above all the 
famous Duke of Berry/ It seems probable that he 
himself was in some way connected with the affairs 
of government, and his French editor considers that 
he had at one time been employed in military finance 
(which would account for his presence at Melun in 
1358 and Niort in 1374) 5 and that at the time he wrote 
he was a member of some judiciary body resident at 
Paris and concerned with the government of the town, 
such, for instance, as the parlement or the Chatelet. 
His detailed account of the dinner given by the abbot 
of Lagny to the -president, procureur general and avocats 
du roi, and of the wedding fea£t of Jean Duchesne, 



jsrocureur at the Chatelet seem to bear out the sug- 
gestion 1 ; and in general his literary knowledge and 
his high connexions make it more likely that he was 
an official than that he was a merchant. He retained, 
however, all the modeSty and Sturdy common sense 
of the bourgeois, who knew and was proud of his 
position and had no wish to move out of it ; and 
from time to time he lets fall warnings againSt attending 
the entertainments of lords of too high a rank, or 
serving entremets which are beyond a simple citizen’s 

When he wrote the book which is here translated he 
was approaching old age and he was certainly at leaSt 
sixty, but he had recently married a young wife of 
higher birth than himself, an orphan from a different 
province. He speaks several times of her “ very great 
youth ” and kept a sort of duenna-housekeeper with 
her, to help and direX her in the management of his 
house, and indeed she was only fifteen years old when 
he married her. Modern opinion is shocked by a 
discrepancy in age between husband and wife, with 
which the middle ages, a time of manages de convenance , 
was more familiar. “ Seldom ”, the Menagier says, 
“ will you see ever so old a man who will not marry 
a young woman.” Yet his attitude towards his young 
wife shows that there may have been compensations 
even in a marriage between May and January, and that 
Chaucer’s incomparable March antes Tale is not the 
only possible version of such a situation. Time after 
time in the Menagier’s book there sounds the note 
of a tenderness which is paternal rather than marital, 
a sympathetic under Xanding of the feelings of a 



wedded child, which a younger man might not have 
compassed. Over all the matter of fa£t counsels there 
seems to hang something of the mellow sadness of an 
autumn evening, when “ beauty and death go ever 
hand in hand ”. It was his wife’s function to make 
comfortable his declining years ; but it was his 
to make the task easy for her. He constantly repeats 
the assurance that he does not ask of her an over- 
weening respeCt, or a service too humble or too hard, 
for such is not due to him ; he desires only such 
care as his neighbours and kinswomen take of their 
husbands, “ for to me belongeth none save the common 
service, or less ”. 

In his Prologue, addressed to her, he gives a charming 
picture of the scene which led him to write his book, 
reminding her how in the week of their wedding she 
had prayed him one night in bed not to corredt her 
before strangers, but to tell her what she had done 
wrong when they were alone and she would amend 
it. He assures her that all she had done hitherto had 
pleased him and all that she did thereafter with good 
intent would please him Still, since her youth excused 
her from being very wise. Nevertheless he has taken 
heed of her words and has made a little book to show 
her how to comport herself ; for he is sorry for this 
child, who has for long had neither father nor mother, 
and who is far from kinswomen, who might counsel 
her, having “ me only ”, he says, “ for whom you 
have been taken from your kinsfolk and from the land 
of your birth ”. One characteristic reason, apart 
from his desire to help her and to be comfortable 
himself, he gives for his trouble and reverts to from 



time to time, surely the oddest ever given by a hus- 
band for instructing his wife. He is old, he says, 
and muft die before her and she will marry again ; 
and it will reflect the greatest discredit on him in the 
eyes of her second husband if she is not perfect in 
manners and morals and fully competent to run a 
house. It is characteristic of the Menagier’s reason- 
ableness and solid sense that he regards his young 
wife’s second marriage with equanimity. One of his 
sections is headed “ that you should love your husband 
(whether myself or another) after the ensample of 
Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel ”, and he constantly speaks 
of “ your husband that shall be ”. 

The plan of the book — “ in three sections, con- 
taining nineteen principal articles ” — is mo St exhaust- 
ive. The firSt section deals with religious and moral 
duties. In the words of the Menagier the firSt 
seflion “ is necessary to gain the love of God and the 
salvation of your soul and also to win the love of 
your husband and to give you in this world that peace 
which should be in marriage. And because these two 
things, namely the salvation of your soul and the 
comfort of your husband, be the two things moSt 
chiefly necessary, therefore are they placed firSt”. 
Then follows a series of articles telling the lady how 
to say her morning prayer when she rises, how to bear 
herself at mass and in what form to make her con- 
fession to the prieSt, together with a long excursus 
on the seven deadly sins and their corresponding 
virtues. These articles are to a certain extent what 
may be called common form ; the excursus on the 
seven deadly sins should, for example, be compared 



with Chaucer’s Persones Pale. But the Menagier 
brings to these general moral and religious injunctions 
a charm that is all his own ; the beautiful series of 
prayers, which he sets down for his wife’s use, is 
particularly noteworthy, while here and there he 
illuminates his discussion of the deadly sins by little 
vignettes drawn from daily life, which are as vivid as 
the illustrations in an illuminated manuscript. Such 
is his picture of the false executors of wills, who 
heedless of the wishes of the dead “ devour their 
flesh like tyrants and grow fat upon their blood and 
subStance”; or of the female glutton — “God 
commands us to go to church and rise early and the 
glutton saith, ‘ I muSt sleep. I was drunk yeSterday. 
The church is not a hare, it will very well wait for 
me ’. When she has with some difficulty risen, know 
you what be her hours ? Her matins are : ‘ Ha ! 

what shall we drink ? Is there naught left over from 
laSt night ? ’ Then says she her lauds thus : £ Ha ! 

we drank good wine yeStreen.’ Afterwards says she 
her orisons thus : ‘ My head aches. I shall not be 
at ease until I have had a drink ! ’ ” 

But the greater part of the firft section deals with 
the all-important subject of the wife’s duty to her 
husband, and apart from the general picture which 
it gives of the medieval ideal of wifely behaviour, it 
is notable because it contains a series of ftories (ex- 
em.'pla, as they were commonly called), designed to 
illustrate the Menagier’s injunctions and to fix them 
in his wife’s mind. These “ examples ” are of two 
kinds, those which he drew from his somewhat exten- 
sive reading (he tells his wife that he possesses many 



books in French.) and those which he drew from 
personal experience. Of the former the two longest 
were simply copied by him from books in his possession. 
One of these is the famous Story of patient Griselda, 
originally told by Boccacio and paraphrased in Latin 
by Petrarch, whose version was several times translated 
into French and once into English verse by Chaucer, 
who made it his Clerkes Tale. The second is the tale 
of Melibeus and Prudence, by Albertano of Brescia, 
which was translated into French by Renault de 
Louens, whose version the Menagier copied, and 
adapted by Jean de Meung in the Roman de la Rose , 
from which in turn Chaucer took it to tell to the 
Canterbury pilgrims. It is a matter of some interest 
that the Menagier’s book, written at almosl the same 
time as the Canterbury Tales (which were composed 
between 1386 and 1389), should have contained two 
Tories which were also used by Chaucer, to say nothing 
of the parallel section on the Seven Deadly Sins and 
the tale of Lucretia, which Chaucer had previously 
included in his Legend of Good Women. Among the 
other stories which the Menagier retells in his own 
manner are several taken from the Bible and the 
Apocrypha, the famous romance of The Seven Sages 
of Rome, Jacques de Cessoles’ Game of Chess Moralised, 
and other sources into which all medieval Story tellers 
dipped. But all the tales are full of a vigour and colour 
imported into them by the Menagier himself ; what- 
ever their origin and the period in which they are 
ostensibly set, the detail of medieval exempla is as 
invariably contemporary as is the detail of medieval 
painting. Even more interesting than these tales are 



the examples drawn from the Menagier’s own experi- 
ence — the faithful dog, which he saw upon its maker’s 
grave at Niort, the wife whose obedience loft the sire 
d’Andresel a wager at Melun, the ftory, told with 
such deep feeling, of the bourgeoise who gave her 
honour to save her husband’s life after the rising of 
the Maillotins and the ftory of the avocat’s wife who 
cared for her husband’s baftard daughter. Even 
where he is telling a variant of a well known tale, he 
is sometimes at pains to give his informant. It was 
the bailli of Tournai who told him the ftory of the 
wager of the newly married husbands and his father 
who told him of the meek wife of Thomas Quentin. 

Interefting as is the fir ft seftion of the Menagier’s 
book, it is surpassed in intereft by the second. Many 
treatises on the ideal of womanly behaviour were 
written in the middle ages and have come down to us, 
and the Menager’s firft seftion has much in common 
with the book which Knight of La Tour-Landry, his 
contemporary, wrote for the edification of his three 
daughters. 1 But the second seftion of the Menagier’s 
book, in which he turns from theory to praftice and 
from the soul to the body, is in its way unique, for it 
is by far the moft exhauftive treatise on household 
management which has come down to us from the 
middle ages. It begins, it is true, with a very general 
dissertation on diligence and prudence in the shape 
of a long poem, written in 1342 by Jean Bruyant, a 
notary of the Chatelet and called The Way of Poverty 
and Wealth , which the Menagier copied out in full, 
but after that he cuts the cackle and gets to the 
’osses, and the result might well earn for him the 



title of the Mrs Beeton of the middle ages. The 
sedion comprises a short treatise on gardening (of 
which more hereafter), careful indrudions for the hire 
and treatment of servants, an excursus on the points 
and diseases of horses, and two long articles on the 
purchase of food, the arrangement of feads and the 
choice of menus, ending with a very elaborate and 
detailed cookery book. If this sedion be taken 
together with some parts of the Menagier’s advice 
on making a husband comfortable in the preceding 
section, it provides us with an incomparable pidure 
of home life among the wealthy bourgeoisie at the 
end of the fourteenth century. 

The third sedion of the Menagier’s book was 
intended to contain three parts : fird, a number of 
parlour games for indoor amusement ; secondly, a 
treatise on hawking, the favourite outdoor sport of 
ladies ; and thirdly, a lid of amusing riddles and games 
of an arithmetical kind, presumably of the nature 
of our old friend “ If a herring and a half cod three 
ha’pence ”. Unfortunately the Menagier seems never 
to have finished the book ; the three MSS. known 
to Pichon contain only the treatise on hawking and 
that is placed after the treatise on horses in the second 
sedion and not in its proper position, as indicated 
in the Menagier’s plan. It is possible that he tired 
of his labours, or more probably, that he died while 
dill writing the book ; but, whatever the explanation, 
it is mod regrettable that he should have written the 
treatise on hawking indead of the two articles on 
indoor amusements ; for we have many similar books 
on hawking and an account from the Menagier’s pen 



of the parlour games and riddles with which medieval 
ladies amused themselves would have been unique. 
What we have missed we may guess from his tanta- 
lising thumb-nail sketch of the occupations of the 
Roman ladies, in the ftory of Lucretia : “ Vindrent 
a Romme et trouverent les unes devisans, les autres 
jouans au brie, les autres a qui f try ? les autres a fiince- 
merille, les autres jouans aux cartes et aux autres jeux 
d’esbatemens avecques leurs voisines ; les autres qui 
avoient souppe ensemble, disoient des chansons, 
des fables, des contes, des jeux-partis ; les autres 
eftoient en la rue avecques leurs voisines jouans au 
tiers et au brie, et ainsi semblablement de plusieurs 
jeux ” (see below, p. 102). In those days, before the 
invention of printing had made books plentiful, 
medieval ladies were largely dependent for amusement 
upon telling and listening to stories, asking riddles 
and playing games, which we have long ago banished 
to the nursery, and a plentiful repertoire of such 
amusements was very desirable in a well bred lady. 
The Menagier was clearly anxious that his wife should 
shine in the amenities as well as in the duties of social 
life ; his many examples provided her with a fund of 
anecdotes, and the missing articles were to have 
contained her games and riddles. Personally I can 
much more easily spare the loft books of Livy. 

2. The Perfect Wife and Housewife 

Such was the monumental work which the Menagier 
de Paris was able to present as “ an easy introduction ” 
to his wife. Though it has been sadly neglefted by 
hiftorians, it deserves to be well known, for it gives 



us a pidture of a medieval housewife which it would 
be hard indeed to surpass. There is hardly a side of 
her daily life upon which it does not touch and it 
depidfs in turn the perfect lady, whose deportment 
and manners do credit to her breeding, the perfect 
wife, whose submission to her husband is only equalled 
by her skill in ministering to his ease, and the perfect 
housewife, who runs her house like clockwork. 

The Menagier’s views on deportment are incon- 
gruously sandwiched into his section on spiritual 
duties, under the general headings of getting up in 
the morning and going to church. His ideas on the 
subject of clothes are very clearly defined. A sweet 
disorder in the dress was in no way to his taSte. 
“ See ” he says “ that you be honeStly clad, without 
new devices and too much frippery or too little. And 
before you leave your chamber or house see you firdt 
that the collar of your shift and your blanchet, your 
robe or your surcoat Straggle not forth one upon the 
other, as befalleth with certain drunken, foolish, or 
ignorant women, who have no regard for their honour 
nor for the honesty of their estate or of their husbands, 
and go with roving eyes and head horribly reared up 
like unto a lion (la teffe espoventablement levee comme 
un lyon), their hair ftraying out of their wimples and 
the collars of their shifts and robes one upon the other, 
and walk mannishly and bear themselves uncouthly 
before folk without shame ” ; and he recurs again 
later to “ those bold and foolish women, who go 
their ways in ribald wise, with their necks stretched 
forth like a flag in flight, looking this way and that, 
like unto a runaway horse ”. In walking his wife is to 



keep her head straight and her eyelids low, and to 
look upon the ground about four rods ahead, without 
glancing to right or left. Such inftrudtions are 
common in all medieval books of deportment. So 
the English Good Wife teaches her daughter : 

And whan thou goift in the way, go thou not to fafte 

Braundische not with thin heed, thi schuldres thou ne caile, 1 

and the Knight of La Tour-Landry, teaching by 
examples, bids his girls be like bloodhounds, which 
keep their noses Straight in front of them, and not 
like tortoises and cranes, ever looking over their 
shoulders . 2 

On the attitude of wife to husband the Menagier’s 
ideas are much the same as those of the other men of 
his age. They may be summed up as submission, 
obedience and constant attention. She muffc be 
buxom in bed and at board, even though her buxom- 
ness hide a heavy heart. Obedience and patience are 
the essential qualities for a wife ; however unreason- 
able her husband’s demands, they muft be obeyed 
and however sorely he try her, she muff never complain- 
Some of the beft of the Menagier’s examples are set 
down to illustrate this virtue of obedience, and one 
might assume from them that the favourite wager of 
medieval gentlemen, who had drunk not wisely but 
too well, was the superiority of their ladies in this 
quality. They betted upon their wives as assiduously 
as their successors betted upon their horses ; and it 
is with considerable relief that one gathers from the 
exempla that they usually loft. The Menagier relates 
no less than five of such wagers (including the one 



which occurs in the course of the Story of Lucrece) ; 
and two of them he purports to have witnessed himself, 
the wager of the Sire d’Andresel and that of the young 
husbands encountered at Bar-sur-Aube. How far 
patience was expected to go in dealing with an un- 
faithful husband is well illustrated in his tale of the 
wife of one of his friends, a famous avocat in the 
farlement of Paris, who saw to the nurture and marriage 
of her husband’s bastard daughter, “ and never did 
he know it by one sign of ill-will, or one angry or 
reproachful word ”, and Still more by the charmingly 
told Story of Jehanne la Quentine. The Stock example 
of wifely patience was, of course, Griselda, but 
nowhere does the essential moderation and good sense 
of the Menagier appear more clearly than in his 
comments on this tale ; they are Chaucerian, without 
the sub-acid flavour of Chaucer’s Envoy. In general, 
while subscribing to all the usual Standards of his 
age, the Menagier contrives to keep hold upon the 
realities of life; in return for obedience he was 
prepared to give truSt and consideration, and the wife 
that he wanted was a helpmeet and not a slave. In 
spite of the insistence upon obedience which was 
charadteriStic of his period, his ideal of marriage is 
by no means a low or an unequal one, and the tone of 
his remarks contrasts very favourably with that of 
some of the ecclesiastical or aristocratic writers, who 
also produced didadtic treatises for the guidance of 

In the Menagier’s eyes no woman could be a perfect 
wife, who was not also a perfedt housewife, and his 
inStrudtions to the housewife are (as has been pointed 



out) the mo ft characteristic and valuable part of his 
book. He evidently had a large household and owned 
a country as well as a town house, for he speaks several 
times of overseeing the farm lands “ when you are in 
the village ”, and the farm animals which are in the 
charge of Robin the shepherd, Josson the oxherd, 
Arnoul the cowherd, Jehanneton the milkmaid and 
Eudeline the farmer’s wife, who looks after the poultry 
yard. To assift his wife in superintending this large 
ftaff he has a maitre d’hotel, called Mafter Jehan le 
Dispensier and a duenna, half housekeeper and half 
chaperon for her young miftress, called Dame Agnes 
la Beguine. The Menagier divides his servants and 
workmen into three classes, firft, those engaged by 
the day or by the season for special work, such as 
porters and carriers, reapers and winnowers and 
coopers ; secondly, those engaged on piecework, such 
as tailors, furriers, bakers and shoemakers ; and thirdly, 
the ordinary domeftic servants, who were hired by 
the year and lived in their mafter’s house. He gives 
an amusing account, evidently based upon bitter 
experience, of the wiles of the French workman and 
his observations upon the engagement and manage- 
ment of maidservants are replete with the wisdom of 
the serpent, and incidentally show that the regiftry 
office and the “ character ” are by no means modern 
phenomena. His inftruftions on how to look after 
servants when engaged are equally practical and 
marked both by benevolence and by good sense. 

But it is perhaps in his capacity as Mrs Beeton that 
the Menagier is mo ft amusing. His infinite variety 
of household knowledge is shown in the incidental 



recipes, which he gives when he is describing the 
measures which a wife muft take for her lord’s comfort 
and the work of the servants. There are elaborate 
inftruftions concerning the coftly medieval garments, 
worn year after year for a life-time and handed down 
to another generation in their owner’s will, inftruftions 
for cleaning dresses and furs and for preserving them 
from moths and inftruftions for removing ftains and 
grease-spots. The Menagier gives seven recipes for 
taking out the latter, but he is somewhat sceptical 
about one or two of them, which he evidently copied 
from a book without trying them for himself. On 
the sub j eft of moths his remarks recall those of John 

In the warderobe ye mu ft muche entende besily 
the robes to kepe well and also to brusche them clenly ; 
with the ende of a soft brusche ye brusche them clenly, 
and yet ouer moche bruschynge werethe cloth lyghtly. 
lett neuer wollyn cloth ne furre passe a seuenyght 
to be vnbrosshen and shakyn, tend therto aright, 
for moughtes be redy euer in them to gendur and alight ; 
therfore to drapery and skynnery euer haue ye a sight , 1 

or of Lawrence Andrewe, who writes, “ The Motte 
bredethe amonge clothes tyll that they have byten 
it a sonder and yt is a maniable worm, and yet it 
hydeth him in ye clothe that it can scantly be sene and 
it bredethe gladly in clothes that haue ben in an 
euyll ayre, or in a rayn or myft, and so layde vp 
without hanging in the sonne or other swete ayre 
after. . . The erbes that be bitter and well 
smellinge is good to be layde amonge such clothes, 
as the bay leuis, cypres wode ”. 2 The Menagier, 



however, gives a recipe for drying roseleaves to be 
laid among clothes. 

The chief impression left from a perusal of these 
domestic hints is that the medieval housewife was 
engaged in a constant warfare again ft fleas. One of 
the Menagier’s infallible rules for keeping a husband 
happy is to give him a good fire in winter and keep his 
bed free from fleas in the summer ; and he gives 
six recipes for getting rid of these “ familiar beafts 
to men A similar war had also to be waged against 
flies and mosquitoes, which rendered summer miserable, 
and here too he has six infallible remedies to tell his 
wife. Apart from this he is full of miscellaneous 
household hints ; how to look after wine and preserve 
fruit and vegetables ; how to make hippocras, that 
sovereign drink ; how to prepare water scented with 
sage, or camomile, rosemary, marjoram, bay leaves or 
orange peel, in which to wash the hands at table ; 
how to make wine red and salt white ; how to preserve 
roses in winter ; how to keep birds in aviaries and make 
them breed ; how to make ink, or sand for hour- 
glasses, or poison to kill wild beafts or rats ; how to 
cure a toothache and the bite of a mad dog (the latter 
a charm, to show that he was not exempt from the 
superstitions of his age ; he has another to cure a horse). 

The beft commentary on the Menagier in this 
aspedt is to be found in contemporary wills and 
household accounts, though of the latter only the 
accounts of larger and more aristocratic households 
than his have survived. But in literature a pidture 
of domestic life almoSt if not quite as vivid as that 
which he gives is to be found, occasionally and rather 



unexpectedly, in certain medieval vocabularies. In 
the middle ages as in our own day a number 
of vocabularies and phrase books were compiled in 
order to teach foreign languages, and then as now 
they consisted largely of words and phrases which 
would be useful to the learner in daily life. 
Thus they commonly give details as to food 
and household implements, shops and the market 
place, journeys and inns. Among these little books 
one in particular, a Franco-Flemish vocabulary of 
the fourteenth century, gives an amusing picture of a 
bourgeois menage, somewhat smaller than that of our 
Parisian . 1 The apposite se&ion is headed “ Concern- 
ing things in the house ” and opens, after the manner 
of modern conversation books, with a dialogue between 
mistress and maid. “ Janet, listen to me.” “ What 
am I to listen to ? Haven’t I anything else to do ? ” 
“ And what haft thou to do that takes so long ? ” 
“ I am makin g the beds, setting Straight the cushions 
on the forms, chairs, benches, tuffets and Stools, and 
I am cleaning the solar [parlour], the chamber, the 
house and the kitchen.” “ Thou’rt a good girl and 
I praise thee.” “ Well, ma’am, I do your will not my 
own.” “ Tell Jehan that he is slow.” “ Where is he, 
ma’am ? ” “ How do I know ? I expeCt he is by 

thy side.” “ Why do you say that, ma’am ? ” 
“ Because he is ready enough to follow thee round 
about the beds, when thou’rt alone.” “ Saint Mary, 
ma’am, what are you talking about ? Upon my oath, 
he hates nothing so much as me.” Here follows a 
somewhat inconvenant anecdote of the rout of Jehan, 
whose intentions are not at all honourable, by Janet, 
which causes her miftress to exclaim “ O Dieu ! 



Janet, art thou as innocent as thou makeft out ? Come 
down and bring towels and linen and coal, and take 
the bellows and blow up the fire, take the tongs and 
mend it so that it burns, boil the pots, fry some fat, 
lay the table and bring the long cloth, put water in 
the hand-basin.” “ Ma’am, where are the copper, 
the cauldron and our pans ? ” “ Art thou blind ? 

doff thou not see them all beside the cupboard?” 
“You’re right, ma’am.” “Thou hast fitill to wash 
and scour the pewter bottles, the quart and pint pots, 
platters, bowls and saucers, and put all this iron gear 
in its proper place, the roasfiing-iron, the flesh-hook, 
the trivet, the covers of the pots, and the spits, and 
then go for wine.” “ Where shall I go ? ” “ Go 

where you see mo ft people and I will tell you what 
wine to get.” The exigencies of learning a language 
have somewhat crowded the poor maid-of-all-work’s 
morning, but the pi&ure is as clear as a little interior 
by Jan Steen or Van Dou. 

Two articles of the Menagier’s section on household 
management demand rather more detailed notice than 
the reft. It will be observed that his book contains 
four little technical treatises, which are complete in 
themselves, the treatises on horses and on hawking 
(which are omitted in this translation) and those on 
gardening and on cookery. The two latter are among 
the mo ft important parts of his work. 

3. On Gardening 

The treatise on gardening 1 , which occupies the 
second article of the second section, is exceedingly 
valuable in view of the comparative rarity of medieval 




writings on this subject. It is true that both the art 
and the literature of the middle ages are full of 
descriptions of gardens; the garden of the Roman de 
la Rose , the gardens scattered throughout Chaucer’s 
poems and the innumerable gardens depidted with 
such loving detail in medieval illuminated MSS 1 
would suffice to tell us a great deal about the sub j edt. 
Occasionally, too, some didadtic writer will give a lift 
of the plants which ought to have a place in a princely 
garden, such a lift as is found in Charlemagne’s 
capitulary De V illis in the ninth century or in Alexander 
Neckam’s treatise De Naturis Rerum in the twelfth, 
or again a maker of vocabularies will furnish similar 
names of plants, trees and agricultural implements. 
But vocabulary makers are somewhat to be midtrudfced ; 
their obj edt is to teach the language — whatsoever it 
be — not to purvey exadf and realistic information upon 
any sub j edt, and judt as their fish commonly range 
from minnows to mermaidens, judt as their lord 
out hunting will shoot the phoenix among his wild 
duck and wood pigeons, so their gardens are apt to 
contain not only plants proper to all climates blooming 
happily in the same bed, but even such horticultural 
rarities as the mandrake. Nevertheless lidts of garden 
plants such as those given by John de Garlande and 
Walter de Biblesworth in the thirteenth century are 
very valuable,* and even more valuable (so far as 
culinary herbs, vegetables and fruit are concerned) 
are the lidts which may be compiled from medieval 
cookery books. Much, too, may be gleaned from the 
accounts of receipts and expenditure kept by the 
cudtodians of certain gardens ; the account of the 



bailiff of Henry de Laci, Earl of Lincoln, of expenditure 
on and profits from his garden in Holborn in 1296 
gives a valuable picture of a wealthy nobleman’s 
garden at that date 1 ; and similar accounts have 
survived from certain monastic houses ; there is a 
good series concerning the garden of the monks of 
Norwich. 2 

But on the actual technique of medieval gardening 
little exaCt information is to be had. For the moft 
part medieval gardeners relied either upon adaptations 
of ancient works, notably the treatises of Palladius 
and Columella, or upon empirical knowledge, handed 
on from gardener to gardener, which they failed to 
write down. Hence the Menagier’s little treatise 
is particularly valuable, especially as it bears some 
traces of originality. It may usefully be compared 
with three English treatises of the same date. Two 
of these are adaptations of Palladius, one entitled 
“ Godfrey upon Palladie de Agricultura ”, the other 
(in which the original element is Stronger) by Nicholas 
Bollarde, a monk of Westminster. 3 But the third is 
much more original and attractive ; it is a little treatise 
on “ The Feate of Gardeninge ”, written in verse in 
the firSt half of the fifteenth century by one “MaySter 
Jon Gardener” and preserved in a manuscript in 
Trinity College, Cambridge. 4 Its particular and care- 
ful inStruCfions for “ graffyng of treys ”, “ cuttyng 
and settyng of vyneys ”, “ settyng and sowyng of 
sedys ”, “ sowyng and settyng of wurtys ”, with 
dissertations on the habits of parsley and saffron and 
a long liSt of herbs and flowers growing in maSter Jon’s 
garden would persuade almoSt anyone to be a gardener, 



and ought to be compared with the Menagier’s 
instructions at every turn. 

Our knowledge of the plan and appearance of a 
garden in the Menagier’s day is largely derived from 
pictures in illuminated MSS. His garden (whether 
in Paris or on his country farm) was probably not very 
large, surrounded by brick walls or wattles and very 
stiffly arranged. In the centre would stand a fountain 
or springhead, such as meets our eyes so often in 
illustrations of Susanna or Bathsheba bathing, or of 
the earthly Paradise. The beds would be square or 
rectangular, raised from the ground, sometimes to a 
height of a foot or two, and faced with brick to keep 
them in place and vegetables as well as flowers would 
be grown in them. There would be apple and cherry 
trees, to make a pleasant shade and provide fruit, and 
also vine arbours, for shelter and privacy as well as 
for their grapes. The grassy sward would be Starred 
with low growing flowers and in the warm summer 
evenings the Menagier and his wife would sit upon 
turfed mounds of earth, planted with sweet scented 
flowers and herbs, camomile, marjoram, pennyroyal, 
violets and perhaps periwinkles, “ the joy-of-the- 
ground ”, although (oddly enough) he does not mention 
this favourite flower. Perhaps there was also a hortus 
conclusus, so beloved of medieval artiSts, because it 
was an emblem of the Virgin (“ a garden enclosed is my 
silter, my spouse, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed ”), 
a little closed garden within a garden, with vines on 
the trellis round it and roses and lilies growing inside. 

The contents of the garden fall into four classes, 
flowers, vegetables, herbs for culinary and medicinal 



purposes, or merely for their sweet smell underfoot 
(which Bacon was to prize so greatly some two cen- 
turies later), and fruit trees. The following plants 
are mentioned in the Menagier’s treatise : (i) flowers : 
violet, gillyflower, peony, lily, rose ; (2) vegetables : 
porray 1 and beet, leek, cabbage, parsley, bean, pea, 
spinach, lettuce, pumpkin, turnip, radish, parsnip ; 
(3) herbs : lavender, marjoram, sage, mint, dittany 
basil, clary, dragonwort, savory, sorrel, borage, orage 
and hyssop; (4) fruits: vine, raspberry, currant, cherry 
and plum. It should be observed that the laffc 
three sections can be considerably increased by adding 
vegetables, herbs and fruits mentioned in the cookery 
book, though some of these were doubtless purchased 
and not grown by him. Thus we have in addition 
carrots (which he specifically says are bought in the 
market), shallots, cress, garlic, smallage, tansey, rue, 
camomile, pennyroyal, herb bennet, chervil, fennel, 
saffron and coriander among vegetables and herbs, 
and apples, pears, peaches, medlars, quinces, figs, 
mulberries and various sorts of nuts among fruits 
(besides oranges, pomegranates, dates and raisins). 
The flowers mentioned are few, but prime favourites. 
Roses, white and red, were the beft loved flowers 
of the middle ages and are found everywhere in 
art and literature; they have their apotheosis in 
perhaps the moffc famous poem of the whole period, 
the Roman de la Rose. Gilliflowers or clove pinks were 
also very popular, and the nominal rent of a piece of 
land not infrequently took the form of a red rose or 
a clove gillyflower tendered once a year ; for they 
would be found in every garden. Violets were prized 
not only for their beauty and sweet scent, but as salad 



herbs, the flowers being either eaten raw with onions 
and lettuce or sugared and served as sweetmeats. 
Lilies and peonies also are often mentioned or depicted 
in medieval gardens. These flowers were used for 
garlands, for both men and women in the middle 
ages had the pleasant habit of garlanding themselves 
on festive occasions, and ladies are often represented 
in illuminated MSS plucking flowers for this purpose. 
The Menagier mentions the chaplet-maker as one of 
the personages required at a wedding feat and tells 
his young wife : “ I am pleased rather than displeased 
that you tend rose trees and care for violets and make 
chaplets and dance and sing ”. One sees her in her 
garden, like Chaucer’s Emelye on May Day : 

Y-clothed was she fresh, for to devyse ; 

Hir yelow lieer was broyded in a tresse, 

Behinde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse. 

And in the gardin, at the sonne up-ri£le 
She walketh up and doun, and as hir li£le 
She gadereth floures, party whyte and rede, 

To make a so til gerland for hir hede, 

And as an aungel hevenly she song. 1 

The Menagier’s collection of vegetables and herbs 
is much more extensive than his collection of flowers 
and one suspects him of regarding his garden with a 
somewhat utilitarian eye, and a mind fixed on the 
black and white and green porrays, the herbolaces 
and cold sages subsequently to appear upon his table. 
It will perhaps be of interest to compare his lit with 
others which are more or less contemporary. John 
de Garlande was an Englishman living in Paris, who 
drew up a Diftionarius jut about a century before 
the Menagier wrote ; and the garden described in 



it may, in Thomas Wright’s opinion, be considered as 
the garden of a respectable burgher of the day. “ In 
Master John’s garden are these plants : sage, parsley, 
dittany, hyssop, celandine, fennel, pellitory, the rose, 
the lily and the violet ; and at the side [i.e., in the 
hedge] the nettle, the thiftle and foxgloves. There 
are also medicinal herbs here, to wit mercury and 
mallow, agrimony with nightshade and marigold. 
Master John’s herb-gardener culls in his herb garden 
pot herbs [or perhaps specifically cole\ ; there groweth 
borage, leek and garlic, mustard, porray and cibols 
[a small onion] and scallions ; in his grove grow 
pimpernel, mouseare, self-heal, buglos, adder’s tongue 
and other herbs good for men’s bodies.” Marker 
John’s orchard contained cherry, pear, apple and plum 
trees, quinces, medlars, peaches, chestnuts, nuts, 
walnuts, figs and grapes. 1 Almost contemporary with 
the Menagier’s book there is an extremely amusing 
manual of French conversation, called La Maniere 
de Langage, which was also drawn up by an Englishman 
at Bury St Edmunds in 1396, in the course of which 
there occurs a model conversation with a gardener, 
which throws some further light upon the subject. 
“ Now tell me, fair sir, how much have you earned ? ” 
“ Willingly, my gentle comrade. I have grafted all 
the trees in my garden with the fairest grafts that 
I have seen for a long while, and they are beginning 
to put forth green ; also I have dug another garden 
and I have very carefully planted cabbages, porray, 
parsley and sage and other goodly herbs ; and further- 
more I have pulled up and cleared away from it all 
the nettles, brambles and wicked weeds, and I have 



sown it full well with many good seeds ; and in it I 
hare likewise many fair trees bearing divers fruits, 
such as apples, pears, plums, cherries and nuts, and 
everywhere have I very well looked after them, and yet 
all I have earned this week is 3d. and my expenses ; 
but laft week I earned as much again, and I was very 
quick about it.” “ He, my friend, never mind, for 
one mull earn what one can to-day.” 1 

A manuscript in the British Museum (MS. Sloane 
1201), which contains a cookery book and was written 
in the firft half of the fifteenth century, that is to say 
shortly after Le Menagier He Paris, contains a lift of 
plants considered necessary for a garden, which has 
several times been printed. 3 After an alphabetical lift, 
it classifies the plants as follows : 

“ Of the same herhes for -potage. 

“ Borage, langdebefe [buglos], vyolettes, malowes, 
marcury, daundelyoun, avence [herb bennet], myntes, 
sauge, parcely, goldes [corn marigold], margeroum 
[marjoram], ffenelle, carawey, red nettylle, oculus 
Chrifti [clary], daysys, chervelle, lekez, colewortes, 
rapez, tyme, cyves, betes, alysaundre, letyse, betayne, 
columbyne, allia [garlic], aftralogya rotunda, aftralogya 
longa, basillicam [basil], dylle, deteyne, herteftong, 
radiche, white pyper, cabagez, sedewale, spynache, 
coliaundre, ffoothiftylle [probably sowthiftle although 
under F in the lift], orage, cartabus, lympens, nepte, 
clarey, pacience. 

“ Of the same herhes for sauce. 

“ Hertestonge, sorelle, pelytory, pelytory of spayne, 
deteyne, vyolettes, parcely, myntes. 



“ Also of the same herbez for the coppe [cup]. 

“ Co ft, coftmary, sauge, isope, rose mary, gyllofre 
[gillyflower], goldez, clarey, mageroum, rue. 

“ Also of the same herbes for a salade. 

“ Buddus of ftanmarche [the plant Alexander], 
vyolette flourez, parcely, red myntes, syves, cresse of 
Boleyne, purselane, ramsons, calamyntes, primerose 
buddus, dayses, rapounses, daundelyoun, rokette, red 
nettelle, borage flourez, croppus of red ffenelle, 
selbeftryve, chykynwede. 

“ Also herbez to ftylle [ diftil ]. 

“ Endyve, red rose, rose mary, dragans [herb 
serpentine], skabiose, ewfrace [eyebright], wermode, 
mogwede, beteyne, wylde tansey, sauge, isope, erses- 

“ Also herbes for savour and beaute. 

“ Gyllofre gentyle, margeroum gentyle, brasyle, 
palma Chrifti, ftycadose, meloncez, arcachaffe, scal- 
acely [Solomon’s Seal], philyppendula [dropwort], 
popy royalle, germaundre, cowsloppus of Jerusalem, 
verveyne, dylle, seynt Mare, garlek. 

“ Also rotys {roots'] for a gardyne. 

“ Parsenepez, turnepez, radyche, karettes, galyngale, 
eryngez [eringoes], saffrone. 

“ Also for an herb ere [arbour]. 

“ Vynes, rosers, lyles, thewberies [? gooseberries], 
almondez, bay-trese, gourdes, date-trese, pyneappulle, 
pyany romain, rose campy, cartabus, seliane, colum- 
byne gentyle, elabre.” 



Finally, here is Jon Gardener’s lift of herbs, belongin 
to about the same date as the la ft : 

Pelyter [pellitory], dytawnder [dittany], rewe and sage, 

Clarey, tyme, ysope and orage, 

Myntys, sauerey, tuncarse [town cress] and spynage, 

Letows, calamynte, auans and borage, 

Fynel, sowthrynwode [southernwood], warmot [wormwood] an 

Herb Ion [St John’s wort], herb Robert, herb Water an 

Herty ftonge, polypody, parrow [? yarrow] and comfery, 
Gromel, woderofe, hyndesall and betony, 

Gladyn [iris], valeryan, scabyas and sperewort, 

Verueyn, wodesour, waterlyly and lyuerworte, 

Mouseer, egrimoyne, honysoke and bugull [buglos], 

Centory, horsel, adderftong and bygull [bigold], 

Henbane, camemyl, wyldtesyl and £tychewort, 

Weybrede, growdyswyly [groundsel], elysauwder [herb Ale: 
ander] and brysewort 

Merege, lauyndull [layender], radysche, sanycle and seuen 

Peruynke, violet, cowslyppe and lyly, 

Carsyndyllys, £Irowberys and moder wort, 

Langebefe, totesayne, tan say and feldewort, 

Orpy, nepte, horehound and flos campi, 

Affodyll, redeuay, primerole and o cuius chriffci. 

Rose ryde, rose whyghte, foxgloue and pympernold, 

Holyhocke, coryawnder, pyony and the wold, 

All this herby by seynt Mychaell 
Wold be sette yn the moneth of Auerell.' 

We are thus by no means ill-informed as to th 
contents of medieval gardens ; but the Menagier 
treatise is particularly valuable for its practical inftruc 
tions as to growing the different plants and tree 
“ The processes of gardening ” as Thomas Wright saj 



were simple and easy and the gardener’s skill con- 
sifted chiefly in the knowledge of the seasons for 
sowing and planting different herbs and trees and of 
the aftrological circumftances under which these 
processes could be performed moft advantageously. 
The great ambition of the medieval horticulturift 
was to excel in the various myfteries of grafting and 
he entertained theories on this sub j eft: of the moft 
visionary charafter, many of which were founded on 
the writings of the ancients ; for the medieval theorifts 
were accuftomed to seleft from the doftrines of anti- 
quity that which was moft visionary and it usually 
became ftill more visionary in their hands .” 1 The 
Menagier is as insiftent upon the waxing or waning 
of the moon as he is upon dry or rainy weather 
as suitable for various operations ; but although 
concerned, all his fellows like to have grapes without 
pips and to graft cherry trees and vines upon each 
other, he is guiltless of some of their worft absurdities, 
such as the experiments in the colour and flavouring 
of fruits in which they delight. “ For to have frute 
of dyvers colourys,” says a little fifteenth century 
English treatise based on Palladius, “ thou schalt 
make an hole in a tre nyghe the rote, evene to the pythe 
of the tre, and than do therein good asure of Almayne, 
so hyt be nyghe fulle, and ftope the hole wefle with a 
schort pyne and wrap hit welle with temperat erthe, 
and wynd hit welle, as thou dofte a graffe, and that 
frute schalbe of blewe colour, and so hit may be do of 
a vyne, and this may be do with alle manere colourys. 
Iff thou wylt that thy appyllys be rede, take a graff 
of an appyltre and ympe hit opone a ftoke of an elme 



or an eldre, and hit schalbe rede appylles. Also 
Master Richard saythe, to do the same thyngge, make 
an hole with a wymbulle, and what colour that thou 
wylt dyftemper with water, and put hit in the hole, 
the frute schalbe the same colour .” 1 One cannot 
help feeling that the Menagier, confronted with such 
instructions, would Sturdily have added “ This do 
I not believe ”, as was his wont when copying recipes 
which seemed to him unreliable. 

Whatever may be said of his remarks on grafting, 
his instructions dealing with the question of when and 
where and how to sow or set vegetables and potherbs 
are obviously the work of a practical gardener, who 
knew what he was talking about. His careful descrip- 
tion of the different varieties of cabbage (which recurs 
in his cookery book), his injunctions on the subjeCt 
of parsley and his warnings upon the method of 
transplanting are all based upon experience. They 
may be compared with those set down in the little 
treatise of John Gardener, who also clearly believed 
that an ounce of medieval practice was worth a ton 
of ancient theory. Here are his inStruCtions for 
setting and sewing seeds : 

Yn the day of Seynt Valentyne 
Thu schalt sowe this sedys yn tyme 
For they beth herbys un-meke [Strong] 

Thu schalt ham [them] set and sow eke. 

They that beth ftronge and nought meke 
The names of hem is garlek and leke. 

Oynet thu schalt sow then 
Other [or] therafter sone Apon, 

To set oynyns to make the sede 
Y wul the tel for my mede. 



In auerell [April] other yn mars, as y haue y-fownde, 

To set other to sowe hem yn the grownde. 

When they begynnyth to grow hye 
Lete none of ham towche other nye. 

Under hem than put thu schall, 

That none of hem downe nought fall, 

If thu wyl that hy the 
Forkys y-made of asche-tre. 

To haue hem saue [safe] and kepe hare prow [good] 

They wolde aske askys [ashes] abowt ham y-ftrow. 

When they rype they wyl schow 

And by the bollus thu schalt hem know — 

The sede w^yn wul schewe blake. 

Then thu schalt hem vp take. 

They wul be rype at the full 
At lammasse of Peter Apoftull [June 29th]. 

On thys maner thu schalt the sedys drye : 

Uppon a clothe thu the sedys lye, 

Agen the sonne his kynd y s 
For to ly to dry, y-wys. 

Here, again, are his instructions for the setting and 
sowing of herbs : 

Wurtys we most haue 
Both to mayster and to knaue. 

Ye schul haue mynde here 

To have wurtys yong al tyme of the yere. 

Euery moneth hath his name 
To set and sow, wrought eny blame. 

May for somer ys al the be ft, 

July for eruyft [harvest, autumn] ys the nexft, 

Novembr 5 for wynter mote the thyrde be, 

Mars for lent, so mote y the. 

The lond mote wel y dygned [dunged] be, 

Y-dolue [delved], y-fturyd [Chirred], syre parde [sir, parde !] 
Whan thu haft y-sow thi sede on long, 



Foore wykys theraftur thu let hem ftonde. 

Whan the iiij wykes beth al ouer gone 
Take thy plontys euery-chone 
And set ham yn kynd, fat lond, 

And thay wul fayre wurtys [worts, herbs] be and long. 
W t yn too wykes that thay beth y-sett, 

Thu may pul hem to thy mete. 

And so fro moneth to monethe 
Thu schalt bryng thy wurtys forthe. 

They that schal bere sede lasse and more 
Let ham grow to make the ftore. 

Finally, here are his remarks on parsley, to compare 
with the Menagier’s instructions on the cultivation 
of that indispensable herb : 

Percell kynde [the nature of parsley] ys for to be 
To be sow yn the monthe of mars, so mote I the, 

He will grow long and thykke 

And euer as he growyth thu schalt hym kytte [cut]. 

Thu may hym kytte by reson 
Thryes yn one seson, 

Wurtys to make and sewes also. 

Let hym neuer to hye go. 

To lete hym grow to hye hyt is grete foly, 

For he wul then bleft and wanchy [wither and become sickly]., 
Hys kynde ys nought to be sette ; 

To be sow ys al-ther be ft [be ft of all]. 

Thay that the sede schal bere the, 

Kytte hym nought, but lete hym be 
Fro mydwynter to the natyuyte 
And he schal fayre sede be. 

Of percell ys lyght to know — 

Take hede he wul nought be set but sow, 

For yf he be set he wul wax thynne. 

And than he wul nought be gode to repyne. 



4. On Feasts and Cookery. 

But if the Menagier’s treatise on gardening is 
dtridfcly practical, even more practical is his cookery- 
book and it is very much longer and more elaborate ; 
for dear as were all the Menagier’s creature comforts 
to him, it is not difficult to guess that the inner man 
(with due regard to the fadt that gluttony was one of 
the seven deadly sins) was dearedfc of all ; and one of 
his modt sapient hints as to the preservation by his 
wife of his successor’s affedfions, may certainly be 
summed up as “ Feed the brute Not that anyone 
could possibly suspedt the Menagier of gluttony. He 
was rather a genial epicure, like Chaucer’s Franklin : 

Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. 

Wei loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn. 

To liven in delyt was ever his wone, 

For he was Epicurus owne sone, 

That heeld opinioun, that pleyn delyt 
Was verraily felicitee parfyt. 

An housholdere and that a greet, was he ; 

Seint Julian he was in his con tree. 

His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon ; 

A bettre envyned man was no-wher noon. 

Withoute bake mete was never his hous, 

Of fish and flesh, and that so plentevous, 

It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke, 

Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke. 

After the son dry sesons of the yeer, 

So chaunged he his mete and his soper. 

Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe, 

And many a breem and many a luce in ftewe. 

Wo was his cook, but if his sauce were 
Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere. 

His table dormant in his halle alway 
Stood redy covered al the longe day. 1 



Everything that the Menagier has to say about 
cooking shows a discriminating tafte and expert 
knowledge. The majority of his recipes are doubtless 
neither his own nor set down in his own words, though 
some may well be and to others he adds comments. He 
lived in an age when the noble art of cookery was not 
merely prized, but was beginning to be written down 
and to acquire a literature of its own ; the famous 
cookery books begin with the la ft half of the fourteenth 
century. In England about 1390 one was compiled 
by the maffcer cooks of Richard II, “ the beffc and 
ryalleft viander of all Christian kynges ”, under the 
name of The Forme of Cur y and a little later come other 
English cookery books which have been published, 
the Liber Cure Cocorum, the Noble Boke off Cookry 
and the two fifteenth century treatises published by 
the Early English Text Society. 1 In these will be 
found variants of the majority of the recipes given by 
the Menagier. His own book is largely derived from 
two French cookery books, which he evidently had 
in his possession and from which he copied. These 
books are the treatise drawn up by the famous mafter 
cook Taillevent, who was cook to Charles V in 1361 
and ecuyer de cuisine to Charles VI in 1386 ; and 
another book entitled Le Livre fort excellent de cuisine 
or Grand Cuisinier de toutes cuisines, which was 
afterwards several times printed in the sixteenth 
century, and from which it is evident that the Menagier 
borrowed largely. But his own treatise is longer and 
far more detailed than either and is certainly the 
full eft of its kind which has survived from the four- 
teenth century. Here in profusion are the recipes 



for cooking black puddings and sausages, meat and 
venison, flesh, and fowl, eels and herrings, freshwater 
fish, round sea fish and fiat sea fish, common pottages 
unspiced, spiced pottages, meat pottages and meatless 
pottages, parties and entremets, sauces of all sorts, 
and an excursus on invalid cookery. 

In reading medieval cookery books a modern reader 
is inevitably struck with the richness of the seasoning 
employed and the wide use of spices in every sort of 
dish. It is no wonder that the Genoese and Venetian 
merchants made their fortunes out of the spice trade. 
It is sometimes said that this heavy spicing of meat 
was required by the fad that since there were 
then no winter root crops or artificial grasses (the 
turnip, as we see from the Menagier’s treatise on 
gardening was dill a garden vegetable), medieval 
farmers had to kill and salt down at Martinmas all 
the sheep and cattle which their supply of hay and 
pasture would not suffice to feed during the winter ; 
consequently our forefathers ate a great deal of salt 
meat during the winter months and needed spices 
to make it palatable. Doubtless this is partially true ; 
but all the cookery books show that they spiced fresh 
meat and poultry too, and mod of the Menagier’s 
meat dishes appear to be made of fresh meat, so that 
the use of condiments would seem to have been a 
matter of tade rather than of necessity. The men of 
the middle ages inherited it from the ancient world 
and it does not seem to have died away until the 
seventeenth century, which saw the appearance of 
something much more like modern cookery. Occa- 
sionally they experienced some misgivings themselves 




over the increasing elaboration of the dishes set before 
them by their cooks. In the fifteenth century John 
Russell, usher and marshal to Humphrey, Duke of 
Gloucester, expressed himself with point on the subject 
in his Boke of Nurture : 

Cookes with, theire newe conceytes, choppynge, ftampynge and 

Many new curies alle day they ar contryvynge and Fyndynge 
That provoke the the peple to perelles of passage through peyne 
soore pyndynge, 

and through nice excesse of suche receytes of the life to make 
a endynge. 

Some with Sireppis, Sawces, Sewes and soppes, 

Comedies, Cawdelles caft in Cawdrons, ponnes or pottes, 
leesses, Ielies, Fruturs, fried mete that ftoppes 
and di£fcemperethe alle the body, bothe bak, bely and roppes : 
some maner cury of Cookes crafft Sotelly y haue espied, 
how theire dischmetes ar dressid with hony not claryfied. 

Cow heelis and Calves fete ar dere y- bought some tide 
To medille amonge leeches and Ielies whan suger shalle syt 
aside . 1 

But although we should probably dislike the spice- 
powder scattered over broths and the seasoning of 
ginger, grain of Paradise [cardamom], cloves, cinnamon 
and pepper, some of the Menagier’s dishes sound very 
good, especially the brewets (thick broths, with the 
solid chunks of meat etc., out of which they were made, 
in the bottom of the bowl and a powder of some sort 
scattered over them), the flawns and wafers and the 
herb and egg dishes. Some of his recipes are for 
dishes famous in their time, such as blankmanger and 
the deledtable brewet of Almaign (Germany), without 
which no feaft was complete. True to his race, he 



tells his wife how to prepare frogs and snails, but he 
also impresses upon her a “ delicate English broth ”, 
Lombard tarts and Norwegian parties. Particularly 
interesting is his chapter on sauces, for he liked them 
“ poynaunt and sharp ” ; it may be compared with 
John Russell’s injunctions (and indeed the Boke of 
Nurture , with its elaborate instructions for carving 
and serving every variety of food, is a sort of poetical 
commentary on this seCtion of the Menagier’s book) : 

Also to know youre sawces for flesche conveniently, 
hit provokitlie a fyne apetide if sawce youre mete be bie ; 
to the lu£t of youre lord looke that ye have ther redy 
suche sawce as hym like the to make hym glad and mery. 
Mu&ard is meete for brawne, beef or powdred motoun, 
verdius to boyled capoun, veel, chiken or bakon ; 

And to signet and swan, convenyent is the chawdon ; 

Rooft beeff and goos with garlek, vinegre or pepur, in con- 

Gynger sawce to lambe, to kyd, pigge, or fawn in fere ; 

To feysaund, partriche, or cony, Mustard with the sugure ; 
Sawce gamelyn to heyron-sewe, egret, crane and plovere ; 

Also brewe. Curlew sugre and salt, with watere of the ryvere ; 
Also for buftard, betowre and shovelere, gamelyn is in sesoun 
Wodcok, lapewynk, Mertenet, larke and venysoun, 

Sparows, thrusches, alle these — vij — with salt and synamome : 
Quayles, sparowes and snytes, whan theire sesoun com. 

Thus to provoke an appetide the Sawce hathe is operacioun. 1 

The Menagier mentions the elaborate entremets 
(farced or Ctuffed pigs, swans or herons, or peacocks 
cooked and clad again in their skins and the like), 
which were borne aloft at great feasts ; but he is 
careful to note, with his usual good sense, that such 
things are not for his bourgeois kitchen. “ But there 



is too much to do”, he says, describing how chickens 
may be farced and then coloured or glazed, “ It is 
not a work for a citizen’s cook, nor even for a simple 
knight’s and therefore I leave it ” ; and the same for 
glazed shoulders of mutton, “ it is nought but pain 
and trouble ”, says he, and for mock-hedgehogs made 
of tripe, “ it is a great expense and a great labour and 
little honour and profit, wherefore nichil hie ; he 
does not copy the recipes. Similarly his menus 
include no reference to the ingenious “ subtleties ” 
or allegorical devices, which were brought in after 
each course in medieval feasts and since they were 
supposed to be appropriate to the occasion of the 
rejoicing, were sometimes surprising enough ; at all 
events a modern bride might be somewhat taken 
aback to be faced at the fourth course of her wedding 
breakfast with “ a wif lying in childe-bed ’V 

But the Menagier does not content himself with 
providing his wife with a collection of recipes. He 
also gives her the menus of twenty-four dinners and 
suppers, for fishdays and meatdays alike, though from 
their elaboration it is clear that they were intended 
as models for great occasions and not for the simple 
bourgeois meals of everyday. From these and other 
menus of the sort which have survived elsewhere, it 
is clear that the meals followed a regular order. Firft 
came several courses of brewets and meat or fish 
dishes, which formed the more solid portion of the 
meal. Then on great occasions came the entremets, 
glazed and sugared dishes, and swans or pheasants 
with gilded beaks and claws and their feathered skins 
sewn round them again. Then came the dessert of 



compotes and fruit ; then the issue, or “ departure 
from the table ”, usually composed of the sweet 
spiced drink called hippocras and a particular kind of 
wafer called me&ier, or in summer, when hippocras 
was out of season, of apples, cheese and other light 
sugared wafers ; and finally the boute-hors or “ sally 
forth ” of wine and spices, followed by the washing 
of the guests’ hands in rosewater, grace and adjourn- 
ment to another room — 

Afftur this, delicatis mo 

Blaunderelle, or pepyns with, carawey in confite, 

Waffurs to ete, ypocras to drynk with delite, 
now this fe£t is fynysched, voyd the table quyte. 1 

A particularly valuable introduction to the menus 
and recipes in the Menagier’s book is contained in his 
account of all the meat markets of Paris, together 
with the number of butchers to be found in each and 
the number of sheep, oxen, pigs and calves sold there 
every week, to which he adds the amount of meat and 
poultry consumed weekly in the households of the 
King, the Queen and the royal children, the Dukes 
of Orleans, Berry, Burgundy and Bourbon. Elsewhere 
also he speaks of other markets, the Pierre-au-Lait 
or milk-market, the Place de Greve, where coal and 
firewood was sold, and the Porte-de-Paris, which was 
not only a meat market, but the beft place in which 
to buy fish and salt and green herbs and branches to 
adorn rooms. Moreover, for his wife’s further guidance, 
the Menagier sets out a careful specification of the 
catering arrangements for several great feafts, which 
had taken place or were about to take place at the 
moment of his writing. Thus we have a dinner given 



by the Abbot of Lagny to the Bishop of Paris and the 
members of the King’s Council, the wedding dinner 
and supper of Jean du Chesne upon a Tuesday in May 
and the arrangements for “ the Hautecourt wedding ” 
in September. The description of the wedding feaSt 
of Jean du Chesne (arranged by one “ Master Helye ”, 
doubtless some such worthy steward as the Menagier’s 
own Mailer Jehan the Dispenser) is particularly full 
and valuable. The careful Menagier has set down 
not only the menu of dinner and supper, but all the 
ingredients needed, their quantity and price and the 
shops or markets where they are to be bought, so that 
the reader may follow the maitre d’hotel and the 
cooks as they go from Stall to Stall, bargaining with 
butcher and baker, poulterer, saucemaker, vintner, 
wafer maker, spicer and chandler. He sets down 
likewise all the esquires and varlets who will be needed 
to serve such a feaSt as this. FirSt the MaSter Cook, 
even such a one as Chaucer saw upon the road to 
Canterbury — 

A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones, 

To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, 

And poudre-marchant tart and galingale . . . 

He coude rofte and sethe and boil and frye, 

Maken mortreux and wel bake a pye . , . 

For blankmanger, that made he with belt. 1 

(the Menagier has recipes for all these dishes). The 
MaSter Cook brought his varlets with him and in Paris 
he took two francs for his hire, “ and perquisites 
There were ushers “ Stout and Strong ” to keep the 
doors and a clerk to add up the accounts ; bread - 
cutters and water-carriers, two squires to serve at 



the dresser in the kitchen where the plates and dishes 
were handed out, two others at the hall dresser to 
give out spoons and drinking cups and pour wine for 
the guests, and two in the pantry to give out the wine, 
which their varlet kept on drawing for them. There 
were two maitres d 1 'hotel to set out the silver salt- 
cellars for the high table, the four great gilded goblets, 
the four dozen hanaps, the four dozen silver spoons, 
the ewers and alms mugs and sweetmeat dishes and 
to usher the guefhs to their places, a sewer and two 
servitors for each table, a flower girl to make garlands 
for the guests and women to see to the linen and dight 
the bridal bed. The floors were strewn with violets 
and green herbs and the walls and tables decorated 
with branches of greenery (all bought in the market 
outside Paris gate in the early morning) ; there was 
a good shock of torches and candles, small candles to 
ftand on the supper table and great torches to be set 
in sconces on the walls, or to be carried in procession 
by the guefts, for the supper ended with <c dancing, 
singing, wine and spices and lighted torches and 
there were also musicians to play during the meal 
and acrobats to amuse the company. 

5. Conclusion. 

Such is the general outline of the book which this 
unknown citizen of Paris wrote for the inftrudlion of 
his wife. Out of it there emerges clearly a picture 
of the Menagier de Paris, sensible, yet full of sensibility, 
deeply religious, yet a man of the world, gravely 
dignified, yet modes! at heart, a worthy representative 
of that great bourgeoisie, which at the end of the 



fourteenth, century was rapidly becoming more in- 
fluential than the aristocracy, which had once despised 
it. As a full-length portrait of a bourgeois and his 
wife it has indeed only one equal, the portrait of 
Jean Arnolfini and his wife, which Van Eyck painted 
in 1434 and which now hangs in the National Gallery. 
They were born in one burgeois civilisation — that of 
Lucca — and had settled in another — that of Bruges. 
They Stand, facing the spectator, hand in hand, 
dignified, with serious and rather sad faces, “ married 
friends ”, to use the phrase of a sixteenth century 
Flemish weaver. She is richly dressed, with enormous 
flowing skirts like a lady, but there is no frivolity in her 
air. At her feet Stands her little dog, and all round them 
are their household gods, the great scarlet bed, the 
glass-paned windows, the brass chandelier and the con- 
cave mirror in which the scene is seen small as in a 
miniature. And above it is written ‘ Johannes de Eyck 
fuithic’ — Jan Van Eyck was here. If Jan VanEyck had 
been there when the Menagier and his wife Stood in their 
chamber, he might have painted just such a picture of 
them. The Menagier was an old man, but if we set 
upon Arnolfini’s shoulders the head of the man with the 
carnations in the Kaiser Friedrich Museum, or of the 
Canon Van der Paele in the great pidture at Bruges? 
we may perhaps imagine to ourselves something of 
how these two looked. But indeed it not necessary ; 
for the Menagier himself has drawn them as clearly 
with his pen as even Jan Van Eyck could have done with 
his brush. 

Eileen Power. 



“ Bru^mann t 



Dear Sister , 1 

Y ou being the age of fifteen years and in the 
week that you and I were wed, did pray me 
to be indulgent to your youth and to your 
small and ignorant service, until you had seen and 
learned more ; to this end you promised me to give 
all heed and to set all care and diligence to keep my 
peace and my love, as you spoke full wisely, and as I 
well believe, with other wisdom than your own, 
beseeching me humbly in our bed, as I remember, 
for the love of God not to correct you harshly before 
strangers nor before our own folk, but rather each night, 
or from day to day, in our chamber, to remind you of 
the unseemly or foolish things done in the day or days 
paft, and chastise you, if it pleased me, and then you 
would strive to amend yourself according to my teach- 
ing and correction, and to serve my will in all things, 
as you said. And your words were pleasing to me, 
and won my praise and thanks, and I have often 
remembered them since. And know, dear sifter, 
that all that I know you have done since we were wed 
until now and all that you shall do hereafter with good 
intent, was and is to my liking, pleaseth me, and has 
well pleased me, and will please me. For your youth 
excuses your unwisdom and will still excuse you in 
all things as long as all you do is with good intent and 


The Goodman of Paris 

not displeasing to me. And know that I am pleased 
rather than displeased that you tend rose-trees, and 
care for violets, and make chaplets, and dance, and 
sing : nor would I have you cease to do so among our 
friends and equals, and it is but good and seemly so 
to pass the time of your youth, so long as you neither 
seek nor try to go to the feafts and dances of lords of 
too high rank, for that does not become you, nor does 
it sort with your estate, nor mine. And as for the 
greater service that you say you would willingly do 
for me, if you were able and I taught it you, know 
dear sifter, that I am well content that you should do 
me such service as your good neighbours of like eftate 
do for their husbands, and as your kinswomen do unto 
their husbands. Take counsel privily of them, and 
then follow it either more or less as you please. For I 
am not so overweening in my attitude to you and your 
good intent that I am not satisfied with what you do 
for me therein, nor with all other services, provided 
there be no disorder or scorn or disdain, and that you 
are careful. For although I know well that you are 
of gentler birth than I, nathless that would not protect 
you, for by God, the women of your lineage be good 
enough to correct you harshly themselves, if I did not, 
an they learnt of your error from me or from another 
source j but in you I have no fear, I have confidence 
in your good intent. Yet although, as I have said, to me 
belongs only the lesser service, I would that you know 
how to give good will and honour and service in great 
measure and abundance more than is fit for me, either 
to serve another husband, if you have one, after me, or 
to teach greater wisdom to your daughters, friends or 

42 > 


others, if you list and have such need. F or the more you 
know the greater honour will be yours and the greater 
praise will therefore be unto your parents and to me and 
to others about you, by whom you have been nurtured. 
And for your honour and love, and not for my service 
(for to me belongs but the common service, or less,) 
since I had pity and loving compassion on you who 
for long have had neither father nor mother, nor any 
of your kinswomen near you to whom you might 
turn for counsel in your private needs, save me alone, 
for whom you were brought from your kin and the 
country of your birth, I have often wondered how I 
might find a simple general introduction to teach you 
the which, without the aforesaid difficulties, you might 
of yourself introduce into your work and care. And 
lastly, me-seems that if your love is as it has appeared 
in your good words, it can be accomplished in this 
way, namely in a general inStruCtion that I will write 
for you and present to you, in three seCtions containing 
nineteen 1 principal articles. 

The Fir SI Section. 

The firSt seCtion of the three is necessary to gain 
the love of God and the salvation of your soul, and 
also to win the love of your husband and to give you 
in this world that peace which should be in marriage. 
And because these two things, namely the salvation 
of your soul and the comfort of your husband, be the 
two things mo St chiefly necessary, therefore are they 
here placed firSt. And this firsb seCtion contains nine 


The Goodman of Paris 

The fir ft article speaketh of worshipping and thank- 
ing our Saviour and his Blessed Mother at your 
waking and your rising, and of apparelling yourself 

The second article is of fit companions, and of 
going to Church, and of choosing your place, of wise 
behaviour, of hearing mass and of making confession. 

The third article is that you should love God and 
his Blessed Mother and serve them continually and 
set and keep yourself in their grace. 

The fourth article is that you should dwell in 
continence and chaftity, after the ensample of Susanna, 
of Lucrece, and others. 

The fifth article is that you should love your husband 
(whether myself or another) after the ensample of 
Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel. 

The sixth article is that you should be humble and 
obedient to him after the ensample of Griselda, of 
the woman who would not rescue her husband from 
drowning, and of the Mother of God who answered 
“ fiat ” etc., of Lucifer, of the puys, 1 of the bailly of 
Tournay, of the monks and the husbands, of madame 
d’Andresel, of Chaumont and of the Roman woman. 

The seventh that you be careful and heedful of his 

The eighth that you be silent in hiding his secrets, 
after the ensample of Papirius, of the woman who 
laid eight eggs, of the Venetian woman, of the woman 
who returned from St James (of Comp eft olio), and 
of the advocate. 

The ninth and laft article showeth that if your 
husband try to aft foolishly or so afteth, you mu ft 



wisely and humbly withdraw him therefrom, like 
unto Melibeus and dame Jehanne la Quentine . 1 

The Second Section. 

The second section is necessary to increase the 
profit of the household, gain friends and save one’s 
possessions ; to succour and aid oneself against the ill 
fortunes of age to come, and it contains six [sic\ articles. 

The fir£l article is that you have care of your 
household, with diligence and perseverence and regard 
for work ; take pains to find pleasure therein and I 
will do likewise on my part, and so shall we reach the 
casfle whereof it is spoken . 2 

The second article is that at the leall you take 
pleasure and have some little skill in the care 
and cultivation of a garden, grafting in due season 
and keeping roses in winter. 

The third article is that you know how to choose 
varlets, doorkeepers, handymen or other Strong folk 
to perform the heavy work that from hour to hour 
muffc be done, and likewise labourers etc. And also 
tailers, shoemakers, bakers, pasfry-makers, etc. And 
in particular how to set the household varlets and 
chambermaids to work, to sift and winnow grain, 
clean dresses, air and dry, and how to order your folk 
to take thought for the sheep and horses and to keep 
and amend wines. 

The fourth article is that you, as sovereign miftress 
of your house, know how to order dinners, suppers, 
dishes and courses, and be wise in that which concerns 
the butcher and the poulterer, and have knowledge of 


The Goodman of Paris 

The fifth article is that you know how to order, 
ordain, devise and have made all manner of pottages, 
civeys, 1 sauces and all other meats, and the same 
for sick folk. 

The Third Sedion. 

The third section tells of games and amusements 
that be pleasant enough to keep you in countenance 
and give you something to talk about in company, 
and contains three articles. 

The firft article is all concerned with amusing 
questions, which be shown forth and answered in 
strange fashion by the hazard of dice and by rooks 
and kings. 

The second article is to know how to feed and fly 
the falcon. 

The third article tells of certain other riddles 
concerning counting and numbering, which be subtle 
to find out and guess. 2 



The First Article 

T he beginning and firft article of the fir ft section 
speaks of worship and of rising ; by which 
rising you muft underftand the morning. 
And morning, according to the interpretation of the 
matter whereof we have to speak, is called matins. 
For as among us country folk we call it day from 
dawn to dusk, or from the rising to the setting sun, 
clerks in subtler wise say that this is but artificial day 
and that natural day, which is always twenty-four 
hours long, begins at midnight and ends the following 
midnight. I have said that morning is called matins, 
and this I have said because the matins ring at that 
hour to waken the monks to sing matins and praise to 
God, and not because I mean that you, dear sifter, nor 
married women, should rise at this hour. But I intend 
by this to have said that at the hour when you hear 
the matins ring then you should pray and praise Our 
Lord with some intercession, prayer or orison before 
going to sleep again ; and for this purpose you will 
find hereafter fit prayers and orisons. So for waking 
at this hour of matins or for rising at dawn I have here 
written two prayers to say to Our Lord and two others 
for Our Lady. And firft there follows one for mid- 
night, in which you thank Our Saviour for his mercy 


The Goodman of Paris 

in bringing you to this hour. And you will say : 
Gracias ago tibi , Domine , etc. 

That is, in the French tongue : Dear Father God 
Almighty Three in One Who wert, art, and shall be 
blessed world without end, I thank Thee that Thou 
haft kept me from nightfall to the hour of morning, 
I pray Thee to grant in Thy holy pity that this day I 
fall into no sin, so that at eventide I may again give 
thanks, praise and blessing unto Thee, my Lord and 

Next follows the other prayer to Our Saviour, 
saying : Domine, sander fates etc., that is, in the 
French tongue : Dear Lord God Almighty and Father 
Everlafting Who haft safely brought me to the begin- 
ning of this day by The holy power, grant that this day 
I fall into no sin, neither run into any kind of danger, 
but that by Thy reftraining care my thoughts be set 
to keep Thy holy laws and to do Thy holy will. 

Then follow the two prayers to Our Lady, and 
firft : Sand. a Maria, mater Domini, etc. That is, 
in the French tongue : Mary, holy Mother of our 
Lord Jesus Chrift, into thy hands and those of thy 
blessed Son now and forever I commit myself, body 
soul and spirit. Lord, deliver me from all evil, from 
all sins and from all the temptations of the Devil and 
keep me in all perils. Sweet Lord Jesus defend me, 
giving my body ftrength and my soul health, enduing 
me with the will to do what is right, and to live 
juftly in this world, and not to fail. Grant me remis- 
sion of all my sins. Lord, save me waking, save me 
sleeping, that I may sleep in peace and awake in Thee 
in the glory of Paradise. 


To Salute and Thank God on Waking 

Then follows the other prayer to Our Lady that is 
all in French ; Mo ft certain hope, O Lady the defence 
of all who seek thy aid. Glorious Virgin Mary, I pray 
thee now, that in the hour when my eyes shall be so 
heavy with the darkness of death that I cannot see the 
brightness of this world, nor move my tongue to pray 
or call to thee, when my frail heart that is so faint shall 
tremble from fear of the enemies 1 of hell and shall be 
so stricken that all my limbs shall melt away in sweat 
from the pain of the agony of death, then, sweet and 
piteous Lady, deign to look upon me with compassion 
and aid me that I may see with thee the company of 
angels and the knighthood of paradise, and that the 
troublous and frighted enemies by thy help shall 
have no sight, presumption or suspicion of evil againft 
me, nor any hope or power of banishing me from thy 
company. Instead, moft gentle Lady, may it please 
thee to remember my prayer to thee now, to receive 
my soul in thy blessed faith, in thy keeping and defence, 
to present it to thy glorious Son to be apparelled in 
robes of glory and made one of the company of the 
blisful feaffc of the angels and of all the saints. O 
gate of paradise ! O Lady of the patriarchs, of the 
prophets, apoffcles, martyrs, confessors, virgins, and of 
all the saints. O day ffcar brighter than the sun and 
whiter than snow, I clasp my hands and lift up mine 
eyes and bend my knee before thee. O moft gentle 
Lady, by thy joy when thy holy soul departed thy 
body unspotted and fearless, to be borne in the midffc 
of angels and archangels, and was presented singing 
to thy glorious Son and was received there to dwell 
in eternal joy, I pray thee that thou wilt succour and 

The Goodman of Paris 

prevent me in this dread hour. When death shall 
be so near, lady, be to my soul comfort and refuge and 
defence, so that the cruel enemies of hell, so fearful 
to behold, may not confront me with the sins I have 
committed, but that these shall be pardoned at thy 
prayer and blotted out by thy blessed Son. And wilt 
thou, O sweetest lady, present my soul to thy blessed 
Son, to attain by thy prayer the possession of eternal 
peace and joy that shall never fail. Amen. 

These orisons may you say at matins, or at your 
awakening at morn, or at one and the other, whilffc 
you rise and dress, and afterwards ; they are good for 
all these occasions, and let it be with faffing and before 
all other tasks. And since I have said whilst dressing, 
I will here speak a little of dress . Wherefore, dear sifter, 
know that if you would follow my advice, you will 
have great care and regard for what you and I are 
able and can afford to do, according to the effcate of 
your kinsfolk and mine, with whom you will have to 
resort and repair daily. See that you be honeftly 
clad, without new devices and too much frippery, 
or too little. And before you leave your chamber or 
house, see you firft that the collar of your shift, and 
your blanchet, your robe or your surcoat! ftraggle 
not forth one upon the other, as befalleth with certain 
drunken, foolish, or ignorant women, who have no 
regard for their honour, nor for the honefty of their 
effate or of their husbands, and go with roving eyes 
and head horribly reared up like unto a lion, their 
hair Graying out of their wimples and the collars of 
their shifts and robes one upon the other, and walk 
mannishly and bear themselves uncouthly before folk 


To Salute and Thank God on Waking 

without shame. And if one speaks to them about it, 
they excuse themselves on the ground of diligence 
and humility, saying that they be so diligent, hard 
working and human that they have no care of them- 
selves ; but they lie, for they have such great care of 
themselves that if they were in an honourable company, 
they would fain be in no wise less waited upon than the 
wise ladies, that be their equals in rank, nor have fewer 
salutations, bows, reverences and be less spoken to 
in public than the others, but rather more, and they 
are not worthy of it, since they know not how to 
maintain the honourable estate either of themselves 
alone, or even of their husbands and their lineage, 
on whom they bring shame. Beware then, fair sifter, 
that your hair, your wimple, your kerchief and your 
hood and the reft of your attire be full neatly and 
simply ordered, so that none who see you can laugh 
nor mock at you, but you should be made an ensample 
of good and simple and decent array before all the 
others. And this muft suffice you as to this firft 

The Second Article 

The second article saith that when you go to town 
or to church you should be suitably accompanied, 
according to your estate, and especially by worthy 
women, and flee suspicious company and never go 
near any suspedted woman, or suffer one to be in your 
company. And as you go, bear your head Straight, 
keep your eyelids lowered and Still and look Straight 
before you about four rods ahead and upon the ground, 
without looking nor turning your gaze upon any man 
or woman to right or to left, nor looking up, nor 
glancing from place to place, nor laughing, nor Stopping 
to speak to anyone in the road. 1 And when you 
have come to church, choose a secret and solitary 
place before a fair altar or image, and there remain 
and Stay without moving hither and thither, nor going 
to and fro, and hold your head upright and keep your 
lips ever moving saying orisons and prayers. Moreover 
keep your glance continually on your book or on the 
face of the image, without looking at man or woman, 
picture or else, and without hypocrisy or feint, keep 
your thoughts always on heaven and pray with 
your whole heart ; and so doing go to mass each day 
and often to confession ; and if you do this and fail 
not therein, honour will befall you and all good will 
come unto you. And what is said above should be 
sufficient for a beginning, for the good wise dames 


To be Suitably Accompanied 

whom you frequent, and the good examples you take 
from their ways and teaching, the good wise honeft 
old priests to whom you confess and the sound mother- 
wit God has given you will increase this and provide 
the reft of the second article. 


The Third Article 

The third article says that you should love God 
and keep yourself in His grace. Wherefore I counsel 
you, that straightway, and putting aside all tasks, 
you give up eating and drinking even a little, at night 
or vespers, and that you take your mind from all 
earthly and worldly thoughts, and Stay in a secret 
place, far from other folk ; that you think of nothing 
but hearing mass at an early hour on the morrow, 
and after this of accounting to your confessor for your 
sins, in a good, thoughtful and modeSt confession. 
And as these two things, hearing mass and confession 
are separate, we will speak fir ft of mass and then of 

And as for mass, dear sifter, you muft learn that 
mass hath several dignities, in three eftates or degrees, 
the which it is meet to describe and explain to you. 
And firft, when the prieft is robed and has said his 
Confiteor and is ready, he begins his mass : and this is 
called the Introit of the mass ; it is the beginning or 
entry of the mass, at which point should every man 
and every woman, reftrain their thoughts and think 
of no worldly thing they may erewhile have seen or 
heard, for when men and women be at church to hear 
divine service, their hearts should not be at home or 
in their fields, nor in any other things of this world, 
and they should not think of temporal things, but of 


To Love God 

God, in purity, singleness and sincerity, and should 
pray devoutly to Him. After the Introit , sung or said, 
is said nine times Kyrie eleison , ChriHe eleison y to signify 
that there are nine ho£ls of angels called hierarchies, 
and of each ho ft or hierarchy some come to the 
mass, not all the order, but of each order a few. Then 
should every man pray to these blessed angels to 
intercede with our Lord for him, saying : O ye blessed 
angels who descend from glory to our Lord to minifter 
for Him and serve Him on earth, pray Him to pardon 
our transgressions and send us His grace. 

After this is said Gloria in Excelsis Deo ; then should 
we praise our Saviour in these pleasant words “ Moft 
Gentle Lord, glory and honour be unto Thee, and unto 
Thee praise, and blessing, and prayer, etc., etc.” Then 
come the orisons to the Saints and to Our Lady; 
we ought to beseech the mo ft gentle Mother of God 
and the Saints to pray for us, saying : “ Mo ft Glorious 
Mother of God who art a way between thy gentle 
Son and penitent sinners, pray to thy Child for us, 
and you, blessed Saints, whom we commemorate, 
help us and pray with the Queen of the angels that 
God in His mercy shall pardon our sins and light 
our hearts with His Grace.” After this is said the 
Efiflle, which is as if to remind us that a messenger 
is come bringing letters that report that the Saviour 
of the world is soon to come. After this is sung the 
Gradual or the Alleluia or 5T 'raft in Lent, and the 
Sequence is said : this shows that there are heralds 
who come before and declare that the Saviour is 
already on His way, and who sound their trumpets 
to gladden the hearts of those who wait and believe 


The Goodman of Paris 

in the coming of the Lord and Saviour. After that 
is read the Gos^el^ which is the true ft and near eft 
message : for hete are the banners, the pennants and 
the ftandard to show beyond doubt that now the 
Lord is near, and now should everyone be silent and 
ftand upright, and set his heart to hear and mark 
what the Gospel saith, for these are the very words 
that our Lord spake with His lips, these are the words 
to teach us how to live, if we wish to be of the family 
of the Lord. Therefore ought all men to observe 
and give ear to the words of the Gospel, and be mindful 
of them. After this the Offertory is made, when we 
ought to offer into the prieft’s hand something to 
signify that we offer our hearts to God, saying : 
Holy Trinity, receive my heart that I bring as an 
offering : enrich it with thy grace. And whilft saying 
this we should make our offering. After this, when 
the prieff is come again to the altar, he asks us to 
pray for him ; and we ought diligently to pray, for 
he enters into our needs and makes orisons for us. 

Then the prieffc says — Per omnia saecula saeculorum , 
and then Sursum Cor da. That is to say : Lift up your 
hearts to God : and the clerks and others reply : 
Habemus ad Dominium : We lift them up unto the 
Lord. Then ought we to prepare ourselves and look 
upon the priefL After this are sung the praises of 
the angels, namely : Santtus, Santtus, Sanfitus. At 
which the angels come down and make ready and 
surround and defend the table whither God will 
descend and by His look alone feed His friends, and 
then we hope to see His coming and we ought to 
prepare ourselves as loving sub j efts when the King 



** Bruckmann Photo.'* 

[/ace p. 56 

To Love God 

enters His city, and we ought lovingly and with great 
joy of heart to look upon Him and receive Him, and 
looking upon Him to be grateful for His coming and 
give praise and blessing, and in our hearts and with a 
low voice beseech Him to grant us remission and 
pardon for pa ft errors. For He cometh on earth for 
three things : the firft is the forgiveness of our sins, 
if we are worthy, the second is the gift of His grace, 
if we know how to ask it, and the third our salvation 
from the path of hell. 

After this is the Paternoster which teaches us to 
call Him Father and to pray Him to forgive us our 
trespasses as we forgive them that trespass againft us, 
and to lead us not into temptation, but deliver us 
from evil, Amen. Then is said thrice the Agnus Dei , 
praying God to have mercy upon us and give us peace ; 
which may be taken as peace between body and 
soul, that the body may be obedient to the soul, 
or peace between us and our enemies, in whatsoever 
sense it is underftood. 

N ext is sung the pofl-communion and then ought we 
to beseech our Lord not to withdraw from us, nor 
to leave us orphans and fatherless. Afterwards are 
said the laft orisons and then ought we to withdraw 
and commend ourselves to the blessed Virgin Mary 
and beseech her to pray her blessed Son to dwell with 
us. And when all is said and finished, and the prieft 
has taken off his robes, then should we thank our God 
that He has given us sense and underftanding to hear 
His blessed mass and to behold His blessed sacrament, 
so keeping us in remembrance of His blessed birth 
and of His blessed passion and resurrection, and we 


The Goodman of Paris 

should pray Him that, continuing not to fail, He may 
grant us true and perfect absolution. And then dear 
sifter, be all alone, with your eyes inclined to the 
ground and your heart to heaven, and think earneftly 
and sincerely with your whole heart of all your trans- 
gressions so that you may rid and deliver yourself of 
them at this hour. But to advise you henceforth 
how this should be done I will here treat of it a little 
according to my knowledge and belief. 

Dear sifter, believe me in this that whoever, man 
or woman, desires faithfully to confess his sins for the 
salvation of his soul, he mu ft know that three things 
be necessary : to wit, contrition, confession and 
penance. And he or she mu ft know that contrition 
demands sorrow of heart in deep agony and repentance 
and that it is meet for the sinner with a moft humble 
and contrite heart to ask pardon and mercy and to 
beseech moft earneftly Our Creator and Sovereign 
Lord for forgiveness in that wherein he has angered 
and diftressed Him. The sinner muft know that 
without contrition his prayer is unavailing, since he 
has his mind and heart elsewhere. And, dear sifter, 
remember the ensample of the man to whom a horse 
had been promised if he said a Paternofter and kept 
his thoughts on that alone, but who whilft praying, 
wondered whether the giver of the horse would leave 
him the saddle also, and so wretchedly loft both. 
So it is with him who makes intercession with Our 
Lord without thinking of his prayer nor of Him to 
Whom it is made : who, if he has, by chance, com- 
mitted some sin by which he merits hanging on the 
gallows of hell, yet sleeps in this sin, and heeds it not. 


To Love God 

ifet how would the same man, condemned in this 
mean world by a petty provost to be hanged on a 
gallows of wood or stone, or even less, to pay a great 
fine, if he thought he might escape by contrition, by 
weeping and imploring the provoft or judge, how he 
would implore him with his whole being in sincerity 
and tearfulness, with groans and promises of penance, 
though now he cannot weep, nor earnestly pray the 
great Lord his Sovereign and Maker, Who from the 
lofty windows of His providence, where He reigns 
above, sees all the passions of the sinner’s heart. And 
the transgressor knows that his Lord is so piteous 
and merciful that for the smallest prayer, if it comes 
from a humble and contrite heart, He would have 
forgiven all — even if the sentence against the sinner 
had already been pronounced, or the sinner but lately 
condemned to death, yet can this Lord recall and 
cancel everything, though there is neither provo ft, 
nor judge, save Him alone, Who for the weeping or 
prayers that a guilty prisoner may make can cancel 
the judgment He has given against him. See then 
dear sifter, what comparison this is ! Yet there is 
worse to come, for when a man is sentenced to death 
by the Sovereign Judge, if He cancel not his doom, 
it meaneth that the agony of death is eternal and 
everlafting, but when he is condemned by a provoft 
the punishment of death is but for a moment. So, 
fair sifter, there is no comparison of the power of the 
judges, nor of the penalties they are able to inflict. 
Therefore is it wiser, fair sifter, to weep and be contrite 
and address our prayers to Him Who has sovereign 
and absolute power, rather than to him who has no 


The Goodman of Paris 

power, save what is lent and conditional and may not 
be exceeded. For the Sovereign Judge is He Who will 
finally examine and judge us. Therefore, fair sifter, 
what account shall we render to Him of the riches 
of fortune and nature He has lent to us, that we have 
with folly expended for our own use and pleasure, 
having made no gift of alms to Him or to the wretched 
and patient sufferers, who for love’s sake and in His 
name have asked it of us ? If He accuse us of robbing 
Him, as in this theft, what shall we reply ? Likewise 
touching our soul, His daughter that He gave unto us 
clean and healthy, without ftain or blemish, which 
we have poisoned with the draughts of mortal sin, 
if He accuse us of murder, saying that we have slain 
His daughter that He gave into our keeping, what 
defence shall we have ? Likewise touching our heart, 
our body that is the caftle which He gave us to defend 
and we have delivered it unto His enemy, to wit the 
Devil of hell, what excuse shall we have ? Certes, 
fair sifter, if the blessed Virgin Mary His mother plead 
not for us as advocate, I can in no wise see how we may 
escape being, by the good judgment of that Sovereign 
Judge, punished and chained to the gibbet of hell 
forever as thieves and murderers and traitors, unless 
the hot tears of our heart’s contrition drive the enemy 
from within us in this our life ; but that may be done 
even as easily as hot water driveth the dog out of the 

After contrition cometh confession, which has six 
conditions, or it is nothing worth. The firft condition 
of confession is that the confession be wisely made ; 
wisely to wit in two ways, that is to say that the sinner 


To Love God 

chose a wise and worthy confessor. And the sinner 
ought thus to mark how every sick creature desireth 
health, and to have and recover health, desireth rather 
to find the better than the worse physician. And 
ought the sinner also to mark how, since every creature 
muff desire bodily health, which is a fleeting pleasure 
that time devours, by greater reason should he care 
for his noble soul, which it is ordained shall be visited 
either with eternal good or evil without end. And 
therefore ought he to chose a mo ft skilful, wise and 
excellent physician, that he may soon regain the 
health of his sick and wounded soul, for if by chance 
he take for his physician one who knows not the remedy 
to his sickness, he will die. This you see for example 
when the blind lead the blind, for it is no marvel that 
they both fall into the ditch. Therefore should a 
sinner seek out a moffc wise and far-seeing counsellor, 
who shall be able to cure him of all his sins and advise 
him, who can discriminate one sin from another and 
so cure them ; and the confessor should set his whole 
thought and mind to hear and receive what the sinner 
shall say unto him, and should have power to absolve 
him. And then ought the sinner to be aware of and 
have thought beforehand long and earnestly of all 
his sins, as I have said before, so that he may be able 
to tell of them and recount them in order and describe 
their circumstances to his confessor and counsellor, 
and should have sorrow in his heart that he has com- 
mitted the sins, and great fear of the vengeance of 
Our Lord, great shame and great repentance for the 
sins, from hope and sure intent of amending his ways 
and of never falling back into his errors, but rather of 

6 1 

The Goodman of Paris 

hating them like poison, and of desiring gladly to 
receive and joyfully to perform, to the end that he 
may be cured and recover his health, whatsoever 
penance his confessor shall prescribe for him. 

The second condition is that as soon as we are 
fallen into sin we ought with haSte and speed to make 
confession. For thou knoweSt not when God will 
take from thee speech and health ; therefore is it good 
to make frequent confession. Beggars prove it abun- 
dantly who from day to day and hour to hour display 
their wounds to kind folk for alms ; wounded men 
from day to day show their sores to the doftor to 
gain speedy and fresh healing ; so ought the sinner 
immediately to reveal his sin to gain a new healing 
and a fuller mercy. 

The third condition of confession is that we ought 
to confess everything and reveal everything at one 
and the same time, to display and open to the surgeon 
the whole wound. It is meet to tell everything in 
great humility and repentance and to forget naught, 
and leave naught unsaid, and however great the morsel 
be it muft needs come forth from thy lips. And if 
the proud heart of the sinner cannot endure this, let 
him make the sign of the Cross before his lips that 
the enemy who is stopping up the passage of his words 
shall depart from him ; then should the sinner con- 
strain himself to tell the heavy sin that is killing his 
soul, for if he delay longer, he will forget it in his delay, 
and so will never confess it, and will thus dwell in such 
peril that by reason of this sin wherein he has remained, 
that he has not remembered, there shall be no good 
deed of his that shall not be blotted out, save by 

6 2 

To Love God 

the grace of God. Then what pardon shall he ever 
gain by facing, or by alms, or by toil of pilgrimage 
that he undertakes, if he have not fully confessed ? 
Behold him also who has not truly confessed, how shall 
he dare to receive his Creator ? and if he receive Him 
not, how he deceives himself and in what peril he runs. 
Perchance he hides on this occasion his sin, thinking 
to confess it another and very near occasion, and 
remembering not that he is in God’s power, Who may 
at will snatch from him his speech, or cause him 
suddenly to die at His desire. If this happen he will 
be damned for his omission, and on the day of judgment 
he will not know what to reply. 

The fourth condition of confession is that we mu ft 
make an orderly confession, and tell our sins in order 
and according as theology places them, and they should 
be put one after another without interference or 
dissimulation, nor should the firft be put laft, nor 
anything diminished, and we should not excuse 
ourselves nor accuse others. The sinner muft tell 
the circumftances of the sin, how he thought of it, 
the cause and motive of his thought, how he has since 
pursued and committed it, spoken thereof and caused 
it to be committed : should tell the time, the place, 
why and how he performed it : if the sin is natural 
or againft nature, if he did it wittingly or in ignorance, 
and he should tell everything concerning it, its cir- 
cumftances and conditions, that may burden his 

The fifth condition is that we should confess all 
our sins at the same time, and to one confessor, and 
not to several confessors. We ought not to divide 


The Goodman of Paris 

our sins into two parts and tell half to one confessor 
and half to another, for confession made in this 
vicious manner would be unavailing, and would make 
us even greater sinners inasmuch as we were attempting 
to deceive our confessor, who represents the person 
of Our Lord Jesus Christ. 

The sixth condition is that we ought to confess 
devoutly and with great meekness, with our eyes 
turned earthward to signify our shame and abasement 
for our sin, and our thoughts and mind in heaven, 
for we ought to remember that we are speaking with 
God and should address our heart and words to Him, 
and pray Him for forgiveness and mercy. For He 
sees the whole depth of your heart’s wile, another 
understands only that which he hears. 

Now have you heard, dear sifter, how we ought to 
confess ; but know there are five things that prevent 
confession, namely : shame of confessing the sin, an 
evil fear of having great penance to do, hope of long 
life, and despair that we take so great delight in our 
sin that we cannot eschew it nor repent of it, and think 
therefore that confession would be worthless, since we 
should presently fall again : and for this there is 

After confession comes penance. This must we do 
according to the decision and counsel of the wise 
confessor, and it is performed in three manners ; to 
wit by fasting, by alms, or by prayer, according as 
you will hereinafter learn. 

I have said earlier that for confession three things be 
necessary, to wit contrition, confession and penance, 
then I showed and taught you, as far as I could, the 


To Love God 

meaning of contrition, and then of confession, and 
how confession should be made, and I passed lightly 
over the five things that hinder it greatly, which you 
will please to mark and be mindful of, at fit time and 
place ; and finally I showed you what penance is. 
Now will I show you how to know wherein you have 
erred ; and we will take fir ft the names and con- 
ditions of the seven deadly sins that be so evil that all 
sins derive from them, and they are named deadly 
by reason of the death that cometh to the soul when 
the adversary can command the heart to commit 
them. And also, to keep you henceforth from thee 
sins, I will show and teach you the names and the 
power of the seven virtues that are contraries of the 
seven aforesaid sins, and are fit medicine and remedy 
again ft them when they are committed, and are so 
hoftile to the sins that immediately the virtue is come 
the sin flies away. 

And fir ft follow the names of the failings you may 
confess when you have erred therein, and after them 
the virtues, in which henceforth you ought to continue. 

Pride is the sin, the opposite virtue is Humility. 

Envy is the sin, the opposite virtue is Loving kindness. 
Wrath is the sin, the opposite virtue is Gentleness. 
Sloth is the sin, the opposite virtue is Diligence. 
Avarice is the sin, the opposite virtue is Generosity. 
Gluttony is the sin, the opposite virtue is Temperance. 
Lechery is the sin, the opposite virtue is Chaftity. 

Now you have heard the names of the seven deadly 
sins, and also of the seven healing virtues, now shall you 
hear their conditions, fir ft of the seven deadly sins, and 

6 S 


The Goodman of Paris 

afterwards shall you learn of the virtues which are 
contraries to them. 

Pride is the root and beginning of all other sins. 
The sin of Pride has five branches : to wit, disobedience 
vainglory, hypocrisy, discord and aloofness. Dis- 
obedience is the fir£l branch and through this a man 
loses God, forgets His commandments and in dis- 
obedience to Him does the will of the flesh and performs 
his heart’s desire against God and against reason 
and all this cometh from pride. 

The second branch of pride is vainglory, that is 
when a man exalts himself and is puffed up with 
pride either at the good or at the evil he has done, 
is doing, or shall do. But these two things, good and 
evil, come not from ourselves. For the good a creature 
does comes from God Who is good and from His 
mercy, and the evil comes from the evil ftate of the 
creature and from his evil nature, because he betrays 
himself to the power of his adversary, which is evil. 
And truly when a person does good, since it cometh 
from the wise providence of God Who is good, it is 
He Who should have the honour and glory, and the 
person doing good should have the profit ; and for 
evil we ought to hate the enemy who entices and 
leads us thereto through pride. 

The third branch springing from pride is hypocrisy ; 
when a person pretends to be full of virtue within, 
and to do and say more good deeds and words than 
he does. And when he sees he is believed to be a 
good man, he is filled with great joy and vainglory. 
Va ing lory is the Devil’s coin with which he buys all 
the fair commodities in this world’s market, and the 


To Love God 

commodities are the gifts of nature and of fortune and 
of mercy that God has given to man and woman. The 
gifts of nature come from the body, and are beauty, 
valour, fair speech, intelligence, understanding. The 
gifts of fortune are wealth, eminence, honour, pros- 
perity ; and the gifts of grace are virtue and good 
works. All these gifts will a proud man barter to 
the Devil for the false coin of vainglory. All these 
things are blasted by the tempest of vainglory. And 
you mu St know that in these gifts of grace, which are 
virtue and good works, as I have said, is man or woman 
tempted in three ways. The firSt, when a creature 
rejoices in the good deeds he performs ; the second 
when he delights to be praised for his addons, and the 
third when he performs these good deeds to the end 
that he may receive praise and be eSteemed righteous. 
And such hypocrites are like a foul and Stinking dunghill 
covered with cloth of gold and silk, to have greater 
honour and glory. In like fashion these hypocrites cover 
themselves who wear a fair garment without with 
intent to acquiring friends and through them 
greater office than they hold, in spite of their unworthi- 
ness, and to gain the riches that other folk possess 
more worthily than they. Hence it often happens 
that they desire and seek the death of him who holds the 
office that they covet, and so become evil murderers. 
When it happens that they live long in this hope 
without success, but die with this wicked longing 
which burns them up, in this envious hope wherein 
they are all consumed, they fall Straight into the pan 
where the Devil is frying over his hell-fire. And 
their good works are loft and affedt them only as 


The Goodman of Paris 

having been done with evil intent. Alas ! false coin, 
whence all this loss of souls. And this third branch 
of hypocrisy springs from pride. 

The fourth branch of pride is discord or Strife. 
That is when a man will agree neither with the adts 
nor the words of other folk, and desires that his own 
words and deeds shall be esteemed Strong and true, 
whether so or not, even though all others and wiser 
than he deem them of no account : and all this springs 
from pride. 

The fifth branch of pride is aloofness : that is when 
a person does and says what no other could do, and 
would conquer and be aloof in word and in deed 
excellently in all things, wherefore he becomes hateful 
and for this it is said that there is no proud man who 
is not continually engaged in law suits, nor is there. 
And all these, namely, disobedience, vainglory, hypoc- 
risy, strife and aloofness, spring from pride. 

A sinful man or woman in confession should begin 
in this manner : Lord Who art vicar and viceroy of 
God, I make confession to God Almighty and to the 
blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints of paradise, and 
to you, dear Father, of all the sins I have in many 
ways committed. Fir ft of pride : I have been proud 
of and have vaunted of my beauty, my Strength, 
my praise, my excellent apparel, the skill of my limbs, 
and have given matter and example of sin to many 
men and women who looked upon me with pride, and 
when I saw this I thought of the power my children 
should have in their day, and of my power, my wealth, 
my e State, my friends and my birth, and how none 
could compare with me in all these things I have 


To Love God 

spoken of, and through this sin of pride I fell into its 
many branches. 

The firft branch of pride is disobedience, and through 
such pride I have disobeyed God and have not rendered 
Him honour or reverence as to my Creator, Who made 
me and gave me the riches of nature, of grace and of 
fortune with which I have strayed, which I have 
abused and expended in evil uses, in worldly vanities 
and honours, and have not rendered Him thanks, nor 
for His sake given aught to the poor, but have held 
them in shame and despite, and since they appeared to 
me disfigured and foul, I would not suffer them to 
approach me, but turned from them so that I might 
not see them. I have not honoured and reverenced 
my friends who are of my flesh and blood, especially 
my father and mother and the ancestors from whom 
I am sprung, my natural brothers and sifters, my 
husband and other benefaftors and lords, nor my other 
brothers and sifters, children of Adam and Eve, for I 
have efteemed none other but my self. And when folk 
wished to help me or correft the evil I had done I 
would not suffer it, but turned in anger and despite 
towards those who helped me, being worse towards 
them and more cruel than before, blaming them and 
speaking scandal of them in their absence ; and I have 
often spoken evilly of them and this sprang from pride 
and its branch of disobedience. 

Through vainglory, which is the second branch of 
pride, I have zealously listened to calumny of others, 
and have believed and willingly repeated it, or have 
added to it. And sometimes from vengeance or evil 
nature, I have said things touching others that I did 


The Goodman of Paris 

Lot know. I puffed myself up and vaunted of the evil 
hings I had done and said, and took great delight 
herein. And if anything was said of me touching 
mder standing, or good repute, or beauty, in my 
presence and bearing, but not to me, I did not corredl 
t and say it was not in me, but held my peace in 
igreement and was well pleased. I puffed myself up 
md had pride in the great expenditure I sometimes 
ncurred, in my great extravagances and superfluities, 
is in giving abundant and excessive dishes, having 
jreat halls and fair chambers, gathering together great 
:ompanies, presenting jewels to ladies and lords and 
heir officers and retinue, in order to hear them praise 
ne and say that I was noble and brave and generous ; 
ndeed of poor folk I cared very little. In truth, Lord, 
[ have affirmed many things to be true of which I 
vas not certain, doing this to please such folk as were 
present and about me, and speaking thereof, and all 
:his I did through vainglory. 

Through hypocrisy I pretended to be holy and took 
jreat pains to appear so and acquire such a reputation 
before men, nevertheless I kept not from sin, nor from 
jreat sin, when I saw that I might commit it privily 
tnd in secret, and truly I have done penance and given 
dms to the poor before men’s eyes to the sole end 
:hat my name might be in their mouths with honour 
md praise and not for the Grace of God. And oft 
lave I shown myself outwardly to desire good that 
n my heart I desired not, and this I did that I might 
ie glorified by men, even though I knew it to be 
igainft the will of my Creator. And at times I have 
>ffered to many folk to do things for them for which 


To Love God 

I had no desire or heart, moreover I thought much 
good of myself in which there was little truth, and if 
there was a little therein, I did not remember that 
the good came from God (as I said earlier) nor was I 
thankful to God for it ; and all this I did from 
hypocrisy and great pride. 

I have been obstinate in discord and strife, which 
is the fourth branch of pride. For if I began to 
uphold something or the deed of someone, to uphold 
his good or to overcome another, in upholding or 
confounding the which I set great Store, I sometimes 
in abuse of another told lying tales and affirmed them 
to be true, that I might do the will and pleasure of 
certain people ; and in despite I moved certain 
persons to wrath and anger and discord, whereof 
great evils came sometimes thereafter ; and others 
I made to swear and perjure themselves and to lie, 
and by the discord I moved and the lying words that 
I said and affirmed were true and had them so sworn 
to and affirmed, I have full sore shocked and angered 
several persons by my ill behaviour. Once when I 
confessed I excused myself in my confession and set 
my excuse firSt, and afterwards coloured in favour 
of myself that which caused my sin, or I laid my fault 
upon another and said that hers was the fault 
whereof I was the rather guilty, and excused myself, 
saying : Such an one made me do it, and I was not 
keeping watch, and thus spake I to excuse my sins, 
which seemed to me too heavy, and moreover I left 
out and was silent concerning great and horrible sins ; 
and likewise concerning small and light ones, where- 
of I spoke, I spoke not of the circumstances 

7 1 

The Goodman of Paris 

belonging to those sins, as of the persons, time and 
place, etc. Long have I dwelt in my sin and by long 
dwelling have I fallen into other mortal sins. To 
one of my confessors [I told my lea ft faults] and to 
another, who peradventure was more pleasing to me, 
I told the other and greater sins, with intent to be 
less severely corrected by him and to have a smaller 
penance, by reason of the familiarity between him 
and me. I desired vain glory, seeking for honours 
and to be like to the greatest in clothes and other 
things likewise, and took pride in being honoured by 
great persons, and to have their grace and to be 
saluted with great reverence, and to be honoured and 
admired for my beauty, my wealth, my nobility, my 
lineage, to be fairly adorned, to sing and dance full 
well and sweetly to laugh and play and talk. I 
desired and laboured to be the mo ft honoured every- 
where ; I was ready to liffcen to divers instruments 
and melodies, to charms, to wagers and divers other 
games that be disreputable and disorderly and which 
were neither according to God nor to reason, for I 
laughed and bore myself right proudly and in great 
disport. I desired to have and use revenge and to 
have the punishment of those, concerning whom I 
did but think that they had wished or done me ill, 
and I was fain to have my desire accomplished fully 
and completely, albeit right or wrong, without sparing 
them nor having mercy upon them, and that, dear 
Father, I did in my pride, and I repent me of it ; 
and I beg of you pardon and penance. 

Afterwards followeth the sin of envy, which groweth 
out of pride. Envy hath five branches. To wit : 

7 2 

To Love God 

hatred, malice, murmuring, detraction and being glad 
of another’s ill and wrath at his good hap. Envy 
is born of the sin of pride, for when a person is proud, 
he is fain that none be like unto him and envieth 
another that is as high or higher in any thing, or in 
any possessions, graces or knowledge, or of more worth 
than he, and therefore he holdeth that other in great 
hatred and hateth him and seeketh ever by speech 
and blame to prevent the praise or good fortune of 
another : and this is the firft branch of envy. 

The second branch of envy is malice : to wit 
when a person repeats ill words concerning certain 
persons out of envy and beareth evil from one person 
to another by ill sayings, that detraCf from the good 
and increase the evil concerning another. 

The third branch is murmuring : to wit when the 
heart murmurs, because a greater than he commandeth 
him, or because all is not done and said unto him as 
to the others, and he dares not speak thereof. 

The fourth branch of envy is detraction : to wit 
when a person saith ill, and speaketh behind the back, 
and saith that which he knows and that which he 
knows not of someone, and contriveth and thinketh 
how he can say somewhat that may harm or wound 
him of whom he speaks, and when he heareth ill 
spoken of that person, he helpeth with all his might 
to increase and exalt it, and speaketh of it full weightily 
when he has the chance, for that he knows that he can 
in no wise harm him more and knows that he cannot 
restore his good name that he taketh from him, and 
so is he slain. 

The fifth branch is to rejoice over another’s ill or 


The Goodman of Paris 

hindrance, and to labour to destroy his good when 
it cometh to him, and to be sad and mournful over 
that good. And for all these things thou should ft 
say in thy confession : Sire, in all these things that 
I have before named, I have sinned full sore ; for in 
my heart I have thought it and of my wicked will I 
have done it and by my false mouth I have said it and 
sown it wheresoever I could, and if I have spoken 
well concerning him or another, I have done it faintly 
and as a feint and nathless I was mocking ; and in 
trouth concerning those whose honour and good I 
ought to have kept and could have had I willed, I have 
turned it to ill ; and when I saw that ill was being 
spoken, I betook myself and went there and consented 
to ill speech with all the power of my heart and mouth 
and body. And all, dear father, have I done out of 
envy, and I repent thereof, and I seek pardon of you. 

After envy comes the sin of wrath, which groweth 
from envy. The sin of wrath has five branches, to 
wit, hatred, contention, presumption, indignation and 
swearing. Hatred is when a person cannot bring 
another into subjection, or cannot command or subjedt 
another as he is fain to do, and is fain to have the 
lordship and domination over that other, then is he 
sorrowful and wrathful and his heart swelleth within 
him. That is the firft branch of wrath. The second 
branch of wrath is when the heart swelleth and maketh 
a person to do and say ill in speech, and when he 
speaks in foul and disorderly wise in wrath again Ct 
another. The third branch of wrath is when out 
of speech come mellees and battles and dissentions, 
and then the person should bethink him whether any 


To Love God 

upon his side or the other were wounded in substance 
or in limb by reason of his words ; for then would 
that person be the cause of all the ill that had befallen, 
The fourth branch of wrath is when in thy wrath 
thou haft offended God by swearing. The fifth 
branch of wrath is when by thy wrath thou haft 
moved and caused others to be moved to anger, and 
concerning this you should confess in these words : 
Sire, I have taken the name of God in vain in my 
wrath and I have spoken foully of God and of the 
blessed Virgin Mary, His sweet Mother and of all the 
Saints of Paradise ; I have been roused againft others 
and in my wrath have refused speech with them ; 
I have angered my lord father and my lady mother 
by my wrath and I have spoken despitefully to them 
and in wrath I have looked evilly upon them and 
desired the end of their days ; I have spoken right 
despitefully to the poor and called them caitiffs in 
my wrath. Sire, I have by my wrath moved many 
to swear foully and by right foul oaths ; my servants 
and many others have I moved to anger and I have 
moved them to do ill. And I have full oft time 
thought how I might revenge me upon those that I 
hated and gladly did I do them ill, if I could, when my 
heart was turned againft them. Much and for long 
have I dwelt in hatred, whereof I repent, wherefore 
dear father, I require of you pardon and penance. 

After this comes the sin of sloth, which is the fourth 
of the mortal sins, from which is born and groweth 
idleness, which is a foul blame and a foul ftain on one 
that would fain be good. For it is said in the Gospel 
that on the day of judgment every idle person shall 


The Goodman of Paris 

have to account for the time that he hath loft by his 
idleness. Now it will be a marvel if the idle have 
any defence, when they be charged before God. In 
another part of the Gospel it is said that an idle body 
is the mortal enemy of the soul and my lord saint 
Jerome saith thus : be thou ever doing something 
left the enemy find thee in idleness, for he is wont 
to find his own work and employment for those that 
be idle. And my lord saint Augustine says in the book 
of the labour of the monks , 1 that no man that is able 
to labour ought to be idle. Too long would it take 
to recite the sayings of all the wise men who blame 

The sin of sloth has six branches. The fir ft branch 
is negligence, the second grudging, the third carnality, 
the fourth vanity of heart, the fifth branch despair, 
the sixth presumption. 

Negligence is when a man loves and fears and 
remembers God so little and holds Him in so small 
account, that he does no good deed for Him or for 
love of Him, and so to aft is slothful and negligent, 
for one is not slothful and negligent in seeking pleasure 
and ease. Certes, it is a great sin to be slothful in 
well doing. For it is written in the Scriptures that 
if a man had never once sinned and yet had never 
done any good and so let the time pass by, he might 
go to hell ; and this fir ft branch of negligence is bred 
of sloth. 

The second branch is when a person grudgeth in 
his heart again ft another, and for the ill will that he 
has againft him, setteth himself to seek vengeance, 
and noddeth and sleepeth therein and leaveth to do 


To Love God 

his penances, and alms and other good deeds. For 
ever doth this grudging person think how he may- 
harm whom he hateth, and day and night setteth all 
his thought thereto ; thus ceases he to do the good 
which he ought to do, and that is the second branch 
of sloth. 

The third branch of sloth is carnality. Carnality 
is when one seeks the desire of the flesh, as to sleep in 
good beds and to reft long, and to lie late abed, and in 
the morn when one is in great ease in one’s bed and 
hears the bell ringing for mass, one pays no attention 
and turns over upon the other side to sleep again, 
and such vain and craven folk had rather lose four 
masses than warmth and a nap ; and that is the third 
branch of sloth. 

The fourth branch of sloth is vanity ; to wit when 
a person knows well that he is in sin and is so vain 
of heart that he cannot, or will not, or deigns not to 
return to God by confession and devotion, thus ever 
thinks he and promises himself to mend his life from 
one day to the next, and doth not correft himself 
and so is slothful and negligent in recovering himself 
and cares not to do any good and to follow God’s 
commandments, as a good person ought to do and 
keep them ; and that is the fourth branch of sloth. 

The fifth branch is despair ; it is a manner of sin 
that God hateth full sore, and he that is taken in this 
sin is damned like unto Judas, that hanged himself 
in despair, for he thought that he had so sinned before 
God that never could he ask for mercy, and whosoever 
dieth in this sin and hath no hope in the mercy of 
God he sinneth again ft the Holy Ghoft and again ft 


The Goodman of Paris 

God’s goodness ; wherefore ought one in no wise to 
fall into this sin of despair nor linger therein. For 
if thou fall and do a full great sin, as to burn the houses 
and goods of Holy Church by force, the which is 
sacrilege, thou doll worse than all the seven deadly 
sins, yet again say I that the mercy of God is the 
greater to pardon. Nathless if thou wouldft confess 
and return to God, in troth if thou hadft done more 
evil than tongue might tell or believe, or heart conceive, 
yet shouldft thou find mercy in Him ; and that is 
the fifth branch of sloth. 

The sixth branch is presumption : that is when a 
person is so overweening and proud that he thinks 
that he cannot be damned for any sin that he doth 
or may do ; and such folk be of such mind that they 
say God hath not made them for damnation. And 
they ought to know that God would not be juft if 
He gave paradise as well to those that have not deserved 
it as to those that have. It would not be a juft judg- 
ment if each took away as much as the other, for if it 
were thus, no one would ever do good, since he that 
served not Our Lord should have as fair a reward as 
he that served Him. Certes they that think thus 
sin against the good justice of God and againft His 
loving kindness and gentleness. For though He be 
merciful, as I have said before, yet is He a juft Judge, 
and every man is made to serve Him and do His will, 
and thus may one have and deserve the Kingdom of 
Heaven, and not otherwise, for he that is negligent 
and slothful to do His service, sinneth. Wherefore, 
thou that art slothful should ft confess the branches 
of sloth, saying thus : Sire, I have also sinned in all 


To Love God 

the branches of sloth ; by my negligence I have been 
slow in God’s service, slothful and negligent in the 
faith, and I have taken great care and thought for the 
ease of my vile body, and I have not remembered 
the words of the Scriptures, nor followed after them, 
by reason of my sloth. Again have I not given thanks 
to God, as I should, for the spiritual and temporal 
blessings that He has given and sent me, and further- 
more I have not served God as I ought, according to 
the blessings and virtues that He has given me. I 
have neither said nor done those good things which 
I might have said or done, and I have been slow and 
slothful in the service of Our Lord, and done and 
busied myself in the service of worldly things, and also 
I have better served myself and mine own flesh and 
have set more ftore thereby, than in the service of 
my sweet Creator. I have long been full idle, whence 
many evils and ill thoughts and meditations be come 
to me. 

Then shouldft thou say in confession that when 
mass was being sung or some other time, or when 
thou waft in devotion or saying thine hours, thou waft 
in vain meditation and evil and unprofitable thoughts, 
and harmful to thy salvation. Wherefore behoves 
thee to say thus : Sire, when I perceived these things, 
I returned not to God, nor made my peace with Him 
as I should. And furthermore, sire, when God’s 
service was being said and done, I chattered and spake 
idle words such as were unseemly to be said in church. 
Sire, I slept in church while others were praying God. 
Sire, once I did not confess when my conscience 
smote me and so made my ill doing worse, and even 


The Goodman of Paris 

when there was place and time fitting, turned I not 
myself thereto, but I said in my heart through my 
sloth ; thou can si well do it another time, or another 
week, or another day, and by such delays and negli- 
gences I forgot many of my sins ; afterwards by negli- 
gence and sloth did I forget to do my penances enjoined 
upon me. I set not a good example to my people. 
For by my full unseemly talk, the which they noted 
because I was their lord, I set them in the way of 
sin. Sire, when I heard my folk swearing foully, I 
neither reproved nor corrected them, but I heard 
them and let it pass by reason of my sloth. Then, 
sire, when I came to confess I did not bethink me 
beforehand concerning my sins that I mu ft tell, nor 
ever thought I thereof ; thus when I came forth 
from confession, I found myself more full of sin and 
of greater sin than before, and I was not diligent to 
return to my confessor, and so the time passed ; and 
all this did I from sloth, wherein I have dwelt and 
kept myself and whereof I repent ; wherefore, dear 
father, I seek pardon and penance from you. 

After the sin of sloth cometh avarice. Avarice is 
ftraitly to restrain oneself and niggardly to spend, 
in an excessive will and desire to acquire this world’s 
goods, whether rightly or wrongly, caring not how, 
and nathless reason telleth a man whether he doth ill or 
well. Certes full many scholars be avaricious, that 
be executors of wills and enrich themselves and keep 
back the possessions of the dead, who showed such 
love to them at their end that they chose them above 
all others to have care of their salvation ; and after 
their death these executors devour their flesh like unto 


To Love God 

tyrants and grow fat upon their blood and substance ; 
these be the scholars of avarice. Likewise there be 
wicked lords that by great fines seize the subftance 
of their poor sub j efts ; innkeepers and merchants that 
sell things for more than their juft price and have 
false weights and measures ; false lawyers, that by 
litigation and trickery fteal their possessions from poor 
folk and persecute them in the courts of great lords 
so sore and so long that they have their desire of them> 
whatsoe’er it be. Avarice, as I said, is born of sloth ; 
when a person is slothful and negligent to do or perform 
what is necessary to suftain his body and profitable 
to him, and by such sloth is careless and fails to gain 
a livelihood, then to reftore his fortune there cometh 
to him the desire for rapine and the will to take what 
is another’s, unjuftly and without reason. If thou 
art rich and powerful and haft enough and to spare, 
and feareft left thy possessions should fail thee and so 
giveft not when need and occasion is to the poor, 
and returneft not that which thou haft ill gotten of 
another, be it by borrowing or otherwise, thou do ft 
sin in avarice. 

Avarice has seven branches : the fir ft is theft, the 
second rapine, the third fraud, the fourth deceit, 
the fifth usury, the sixth gambling and the seventh 

Theft is when a person unjuftly and by night takes 
a thing without the knowledge and againft the will 
of him to whom it belongs ; and that is the firft: 
branch of avarice. 

The second branch of avarice is rapine ; that is 
when a person seizes a thing from another and, when 



The Goodman of Paris 

he has it, will not render it or send it to him to whom 
it rightfully belongs, but by avarice keeps and conceals 
it because it pleases him, and if peradventure he hears 
it asked for, he will not tell of it, but conceals and 
hides it so that none can find it. 

The third branch of avarice is fraud ; that is when 
a person, by deception, by trickery or by fraudulent 
purchase or sale telleth lies unto him, from whom he 
would fain purchase a thing or to whom he would 
sell it, causing him falsely to think that the thing 
is worth more than it is. 

The fourth branch of avarice is deceit : to wit 
when a person shows the outside of a thing that seems 
good, and the fault does not show, and he leaves it 
and says nought concerning it and swears that the 
thing is good and true, and well he knows that it is 
not so. And thus do false merchants, who set the 
faireft and beft on the top and the worft underneath 
and swear that all is good and true and this is deceit, 
because they deceive folk and swear false oaths. 

The fifth branch of avarice is usury : to wit when 
a person lends his money to have a larger sum for a 
long term, or sells his corn and wine dearer because 
he gives long credit, and so with all other merchandise, 
which I pass over for the present, for usury is a full 
long thing to tell and full wicked. 

The sixth branch of avarice is gambling : that is 
when one plays at dice to win another’s money and 
therein is much trickery, covetousness, avarice and 
deceit, as in false counting and lending money for gain, 
as to lend twelve pence for thirteen ; and in such games 
many and evil oaths be spoken, as swearing by God 


To Love God 

and Our Lady and all the saints of Paradise and much 
evil is said and done ; wherefore one should beware 

The seventh branch of avarice is simony ; to wit 
when the sacraments of holy church be bought or 
sold or the prebends of churches ; and such sins come 
of clerks and monks, and they come likewise when 
tithes be ill paid and penances ill performed and the 
commandments of holy church ill kept, and alms ill 

The Devil giveth six commandments to the avari- 
cious man : the fir ft, that he take good care of his 
own ; the second, that he lend not without gain and 
do no good before his death ; the third, that he eat 
all alone and do no courtesy nor almsgiving ; the fourth 
that he reftrain his household from eating and drinking ; 
the fifth that he give away neither crumb nor remnant ; 
the sixth that he seek diligently to pile up for his heirs. 

All these things wherein thy conscience accuses thee 
and all concerning the sin of avarice wherein thou 
feeleft thyself guilty, thou shouldft confess one after 
another, in the above order, and at the end thou 
shouldft say : Sire, dear father, I repent full sorely 
of all the sins that I have sinned through avarice and 
have told you, and I require of you pardon and 

After the sin of avarice comes the sin of gluttony, 
which is divided into two parts : the fir ft is when one 
takes too abundantly of meat and the second is ribald 
and wanton speech. The sin of too much eating 
and drinking pleaseth the Devil. It is written in the 
Gospels that God gave the Devil power to enter 


The Goodman of Paris 

into the belly of the swine, by reason of their gluttony 
and the Devil entered into them and drove them into 
the sea and they were drowned ; even so enters he 
into the body of gluttons, who lead a dishonest life, 
and pushes them into the sea of hell. God commands 
failing, and the woman that is a glutton saith “ I 
will eat God commands us to go to church and 
rise early and the glutton saith, “ I mu ft sleep. I was 
drunk yefterday. The church is not a hare, it will 
very well wait for me ”. When she has with some 
difficulty risen, know you what be her hours ? Her 
matins are : “ Ha ! what shall we drink ? Is there 
nought left over from la ft night ? ” Then says she 
her lauds, thus : “ Ha ! we drank good wine yeftreen ”. 
Afterwards she says her orisons, thus : “ My head 
aches ; I shall not be at ease until I have had a drink ”. 
Certes, such gluttony putteth a woman to shame, for 
from it she becomes a ribald, and a wanton and a 
thief. The tavern is the Devil’s church, where his 
disciples go to serve him and where he doth his 
miracles ; for when people go there, they go upright 
and well spoken, wise and sensible and well advised, 
and when they return they cannot hold themselves 
upright, nor speak ; they are all fools and madmen 
and they return swearing, beating and giving the lie 
to each other. 

The other part of the sin of the mouth is foolish 
speaking in many ways, idle words, boafting, flattering, 
swearing, gossipping, grumbling, rebelling and blaming. 
There is no word so small that thou haft spoken that 
thou shalt not account for before God. Alas ! how 
much sayefl thou in the morning which thou haft 


To Love God 

forgotten at midday. Idle babblers be like unto the 
clappers of the mill that cannot be Hill ; boa Hers and 
peHles speak only of themselves. 

This sin of gluttony, which, as I have said, is 
divided into two parts, has five branches. The firH 
branch is when a person eateth before he ought, to 
wit too early in the morning, or before saying hours 
and going to church and hearing the word of God 
and His commandments ; for every creature ought 
to have the good sense and discretion not to eat 
before the hour of tierce, save by reason of illness, 
or weakness or some necessity conHraining thereto. 

The second branch of gluttony is when a person 
eats more often than behoveth and without need. 
For, as the Scripture saith : once upon the day to 
eat and drink it is angelic, and to eat twice a day is 
human, and thrice or four times or more often is 
the life of a beaH and not of a human being. 

The third branch of gluttony is when a person 
eats and drinks so much in a day that ill befalls him, 
and he is drunk and sick and muH take to his bed, 
and is sore burdened thereby. 

The fourth branch of gluttony is when a person 
eats so greedily of a dish that he doth not chew it 
and swallows it whole and before he ought, as the 
Scripture telleth of Esau, that was the firHborn of 
all his brothers, and made such haHe to eat that he 
was nigh choked. 

The fifth branch of gluttony is when a person 
seeks out delicious viands, howsoever coHly they be, 
and can do good to fewer others and cannot withhold 
himself so that he may help a poor man, or two, or 


The Goodman of Paris 

more. And it is this sin concerning which we read 
in the Gospels of the wicked rich man, that was clad 
in purple, and each da y ate so plenteously of meat 
and would do no kindness to the poor lazar, and 
concerning him, we read that he was damned, for that 
he lived too delicately and gave not for God’s sake as 
behoved him. And these things aforesaid you should 
confess. . . . 

Afterwards cometh the sin of lechery, which is 
born of gluttony, for when the wicked man has well 
drunken and eaten more than he ought, then is he 
moved and warmed to this sin and then come disordered 
thoughts and evil meditations and from the thought 
he goeth to the deed. And this sin of lechery hath 
six branches. . . . Wherefore all these things 

the sinner ought humbly to tell to his confessor and 
ask pardon saying : I have sinned these sins and on 
great feaft days and vigils and perchance on the 
vigils of Our Lady, on feasls or in Lent, or in a holy 
place, as in church, and he should say whether it be 
once, or twice, or several times, and with whom he 
sinneth more than with others. And at the end he 
should say : Dear father, I have erred and sinned 
as I have said with the sin of lechery, and I repent me 
truly thereof : so I beg of you pardon and penance. 

Hereafter follow the names and conditions of the 
seven virtues, whereby one may keep oneself from 
deadly sin, and fir Ah : 

Humility is again ft pride ; for even as pride cometh 
of a wicked and proud and despiteful heart, and 
causeth body and soul to be condemned and loft and 
done to death, so humility is born of a pitiful heart 


To Love God 

and causeth the body to be honoured in this world 
and the soul to be set in everlasting bliss, wherefore 
is humility compared to the Virgin Mary. . . . 

Loving kindness is againSt the sin of envy : for even 
as that sin poisons and burns the heart of the envious 
man, as thou haft heard, so doth the holy virtue of 
loving kindness, which is the gift of the Holy Ghoft, 
make the heart humble and mistrustful of itself ; 
and therefore it is called the gift of fear. The virtue 
of loving kindness is a sweetness, a dew, a medicine 
again ft envy : for even as the envious man is ever 
sad and wrath because of the possessions of others, so 
a good heart full of loving kindness is ever glad of the 
good of his neighbour and is sorrowful and hath 
compassion over his enemies. The virtue of loving 
kindness cafteth envy altogether out of the heart and 
maketh a man content with that which he hath. 
Never shalt thou envy the possessions of thy good 
friend that thou loveffc well . . . God and the 

Gospel giveth heaven to the poor and maketh the 
loving and debonnair to inherit the earth ; look 
thou then, where shall the envious and unkind be save 
in the torment of hell ? 

Gentleness is again ft wrath. The holy virtue of 
gentleness and temperance seeketh ever peace, equity 
and justice, without harming, or angering, or hating 
anyone and hateth and despiseth none. Even as wrath 
is the fire that spoileth all the goods that be in the 
house of the felon heart, so gentleness is the precious 
medicine that spreadeth peace everywhere and seeketh 
equity and justice. Equity has eight fteps that be full 
good to note, whereby the peaceable and worthy man 


The Goodman of Paris 

marketh the snares and gins of the Devil, who sees us 
when we see him not and proves us sorely and in more 
than a thousand ways. The devil is a philosopher, he 
knows the . ftate and habits of man and his completion 
and what vice he mot inclineth to by nature or cutom, 
and assails him mot trongly upon that side ; the 
choleric with wrath and discord, the sanguine with 
jollity and lechery, the phlegmatic with gluttony and 
sloth, the melancholy with envy and sorrow. Where- 
fore everyone should defend himself upon that side 
where he knoweth that his catle is weaket, and fight 
againt that vice wherewith he findeth himself mot 
sorely assailed. The gentle man spreadeth peace 
everywhere. Peace vanquishes all malice and wrath 
and without peace none may have the victory. . . . 

Prowess, that is the same as diligence, is a holy virtue 
againt the sin of accidie 1 and sloth ; for even as the 
citizen seeks to win wealth for himself and his children, 
so the knight and the noble seeks to win prize and praise 
in the world, and each man according to his e tate in this 
world seeks to win worldly things. Alas ! how few 
there be that labour to win spiritual possessions ! Good 
men and not vain-glorious, that be weary of the world 
and seek to come before God, are wise to despise the 
world for the dangers and difficulties wherewith it is 
full ; it is a forest full of lions, a mountain full of serpents 
and bears, a battle full of treacherous enemies, a 
shadowy valley full of tears, and nought is there stable 
therein ; there is no peace of heart or of conscience for 
him that would truft in the world and love it. The 
good folk that be weary of the world turn their hearts 
towards God, whither they hope to come, and misprize 


To Love God 

all worldly possessions ; but it is a thing so great that 
few who undertake it persevere therein. By this 
virtue, saith Jesus Chrift, all the other virtues fight and 
this gaineth the victory ; all labour but this beareth 
away the wage at eventide. 

Mercy or charity is again ft avarice, for mercy is, as 
it were, to have sorrow and compassion over the ill 
fortune, or necessity, or poverty of another and to aid, 
counsel and comfort him with all one’s might. Thus, 
even as the Devil giveth his commandments to the 
miser, as thou haft heard, so the Holy Ghoft giveth 
His commandmants to him that is merciful and charit- 
able, bidding him to despise worldly goods, to give 
alms, to clothe the naked, to give drink to the thirfty, 
to feed the hungry and to visit the sick. Even as the 
miser is son to the Devil and like unto him, so the 
charitable is like unto God his father. Even as avarice 
taketh thought both night and day to gain and to heap 
up, whether by fair means or foul, so charity and mercy 
take thought to accomplish the seven works of mercy. 
. . . Mercy hath seven branches : the firft is to 

give food and drink to the poor ; the second is to 
clothe the hungry ; the third is to lend to the poor 
and needy and forgive them the debt ;■ the fourth is 
to visit the sick ; the fifth, to house the poor ; the 
sixth, to visit those that be in prison ; and the seventh 
to bury the dead. And all these things it behovethyou 
to do in charity and compassion, for the love of God 
only and without vainglory. You ought to give alms 
out of your own true possessions, buxomly, speedily, 
secretly, devoutly and humbly, without despising the 
poor in thought or deed. He does well who gives to 


The Goodman of Paris 

them at once when they ask him, but he does better 
O-ill who gives without being asked. 

Temperance is again ft gluttony : for even as the 
holy virtue of temperance is right measure againfb the 
mortal sin of gluttony, so is it the virtue which the 
gift of wisdom giveth and planteth in the glutton s 
heart againlb excess. Temperance is a tree full 
precious, for it guardeth the life of body and soul ; for 
from too much drinking and eating cometh death and 
from too ill speech the head hath sorrow and the body 
and soul be slain. By temperance the body lives long 
and in peace in this world and the soul has life ever- 
laying. This virtue ought to be kept above all the 
others by reason of the great good that it doth. Fir lb, 
temperance is the guard of reason, under fban ding and 
sense and the man without sense is a bealb. He that 
is drunken is so full of wine that he loses reason and 
understanding and so he thinks that he is drinking the 
wine, but the wine is drinking him. The second is 
that temperance delivers the glutton from the servitude 
of the belly, to which he is serf. Saint Paul saith that 
a man lowereth himself much that loseth his freedom 
to be serf to a lord, but he lowereth himself more that 
maketh himself serf to his belly, from which nought 
but filth cometh forth. Temperance keeps a man in 
his own lordship, for spirit and sense ought to be lords 
over the body and the body ought to serve the spirit. 
The glutton by his drunkenness and gluttony loses 
sense and spirit and knows not how to govern his body. 
The third is that it keeps well the gate of the calble 
that the Devil may not enter man’s body by deadly 
sin ; the mouth is the gate whereby the Devil enters 


To Love God 

into the caftle to fight with the good virtues and he 
enters therein by reason of the false traitors, lords 
Glutton and Evil-Speech, who leave the gate of the 
mouth open to the Devil. This virtue hath lordship 
over the body, for by temperance is the body mastered, 
even as a horse by the bridle. Temperance fighteth 
the firft battle of the ho ft and guardeth the other 
virtues. The Devil tempts man through the mouth, 
even as he did Our Lord, when he bade Him to turn 
a ftone into bread, and Adam, when he made him to 
eat the fruit. Among the other creatures, man’s 
mouth is smallest in proportion to his body ; man has 
the other members double : two ears, and two noftrils 
and two eyes, but he hath but one mouth, and this shows 
us that he ought to eat and drink and speak temperately. 
Temperance is none other than right measure, which is 
midway between too much and too little ; man ought 
to have measure in all things in his heart, and in his 
sense, for he is even as a bird that guideth itself by the 
eye of temperance, and oftentimes flieth away and 
falleth into the net of the fowler, to wit of the Devil, 
who often hunteth to take that bird. 

Chastity is against lechery and the holy virtue of 
chastity is to have a conscience pure from all evil 
thoughts and the members pure from touch. . . It 

behaveth the chafte, as thou haft heard, to have a 
clean conscience ; to have a clean conscience three 
things be necessary : the firft is willingly to hear God 
spoken of ; the second is well and often to confess to 
Him ; the third is to hold in remembrance the passion 
of Jesus Chrift and to remember why He died and that 
thou shalt die and shalt not escape death ; and that 


The Goodman of Paris 

is the fir£I degree of chastity. The second degree of 
chaStity is to beware of evil words, for evil com- 
munications corrupt good manners. The third degree 
is well to keep the five bodily senses : the eyes from 
foolishly looking, the ears from foolishly hearing, the 
noStrils from too much smelling and delighting in 
sweet odours, the hands from foolishly touching, the 
feet from going into evil places ; these be the five 
doors and the five windows, through which the Devil 
cometh to Steal chaltity from the caStle of the soul and 
of the caitiff body. The fourth degree is to faff and 
ever to remember that death may suddenly seize thee 
and bear thee away, if thou be not ware. The fifth 
degree is to shun evil company, as did Joseph, who fled 
from the lady that would have tempted him to sin. 
The sixth degree is to be busy with good works ; for 
when the Devil findeth a person idle, fain is he to 
occupy him about his own business. The seventh 
degree is to pray ; and for prayer there be three 
things needful, to wit true faith, the hope of having 
that for which one asks and a devout heart, without 
wandering thoughts. Prayer without devotion is a 
messenger without letters. In prayer God looketh 
for a humble and devout heart and taketh no heed of 
outward show nor of an ostentatious bearing, like to 
that of those bold and foolish women, who go their 
ways in ribald wise, with their necks Stretched forth 
like unto a Stag in flight, looking this way and that 
like unto a runaway horse. 

And this, dear siSter, will suffice you concerning this 
matter. For the mother wit that God has given you 
and your good will to be devout and virtuous towards 


To Love God 

God and the church, and the preachings and sermon 
you shall hear in our parish and elsewhere, together 
with the Bible, the Golden Legend 1 , the Apocalypse 
the Life of the Fathers’, and divers other good books 
in French which I have and whereof you are miftress 
and free to take them at your pleasure, these will 
teach you all the reft at God’s good pleasure, and may 
He guide you and incline your heart towards these 


The Fourth Article 

The fourth article of the firft seftion saith that you 
muft keep yourself in continence and live chastely. 

I am sure that so you do, and I doubt not concerning 
it, but because I know that after you and me this book 
will fall into the hands of our children or other our 
friends, I readily set down all that I know, and I say 
that you ought also to lesson your friends and especially 
your daughters, and tell them, fair sifter, that in sooth 
all good is departed from maid or woman who faileth 
in virginity, continence and chaftity ; not riches, nor 
beauty, nor good sense, nor high lineage, nor any other 
merit can ever wipe out the ill fame of the opposite 
vice, above all if in a woman it be but once committed, 
in sooth if it be but suspected, wherefore many wise 
women have kept themselves not only from the deed but 
from the suspicion thereof, in purpose to win the name 
of virginity ; concerning the which name the holy 
writings of my lord saint Auguftine and my lord 
saint Gregory and many others say and bear witness 
that all worthy women who have been, are and 
shall be, of whatsoever eftate they be or have been, 
may be named and called virgins. And my lord 
saint Paul confirmeth it in the eleventh chapter of 
the second epiftle that he made unto the Corinthians, 
where he said thus : Despondienim vos , etc. I would 
have you know, saith he, that a woman who is wedded 


To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

unto a man and liveth chaStely without thought of 
another man, she may be called a virgin and presented 
unto Our Lord Jesus ChriSt. Concerning every good 
and worthy woman Jesus ChriSt in the thirteenth 
chapter of the gospel of saint Matthew speaketh thus 
in a parable : Simile ell regnum coelorum tbesauro 
abscondito in agro, etc. The kingdom of heaven, he 
saith, is like unto a treasure hid in a field, the which 
when a man digging therein hath found, he hideth and 
goeth and selleth all that he hath and buyeth that 
field. In the same chapter Our Lord saith this 
parable : The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant 
man, seeking goodly pearls, who, when he had found 
one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had 
and bought it. By the treasure found in a field and 
by the precious Stone we may understand every good 
and worthy woman ; for in whatsoever e State she be, 
maid, wife, or widow, she may be compared unto the 
treasure and the precious Stone ; for she is so good, so 
pure, so Stainless that she is pleasing unto God Who 
loveth her as a holy virgin, whatsoever be her eState, 
maid, wife or widow. And certes, a man in whatso- 
ever estate he be, noble or not, can have no better 
treasure than a worthy and wise woman. And that 
may he know well and have proof who will Study the 
adts and good bearing and good deeds of the glorious 
ladies that were in the time of the old law, as Sarah, 
Rebecca, Leah and Rachel ; who were wives to the holy 
patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who is called 
Israel, and who were all cha£te and lived chastely and 
as virgins. 

Item, upon this matter we find written in the 


The Goodman of Paris 

thirteenth chapter of the book of Daniel, how that 
after the Babylonish migration, to wit after that 
Jechonias king of Jerusalem and the people of Israel 
were led into prison and captivity in Babylon and the 
city of Jerusalem was destroyed by king Nebuchadnezzar, 
there was in Jerusalem a rich and worthy Jew hight 
Joachim, and Joachim took to wife the daughter of 
another Jew that was called Belchias ; and the maid was 
called Susanna, and she was very fair and feared God, 
for her father and mother that were juft and good 
people, had right well taught and lessoned her inchaftity 
according to the law of Moses. This Joachim, 
husband of Susanna, was rich and had a right fair 
garden full of fruit trees. There the Jews were wont 
to come to take their pleasure, for the place was more 
seemly than all others, and Susanna herself went 
often to take her ease in this garden. Now it befel 
that two old priefts of this same law were set up by 
the people to be their judges for a year, the which 
judges saw that Susanna was very fair and were taken 
and inflamed with fleshly love. So they took counsel 
together and sought how they might deceive her, and 
they were of accord that they would spy upon her in 
the aforesaid garden and speak to her if they found her 

One day it befel that after the midday hour they 
were musing in a corner of the garden, and Susanna 
came to the garden to bathe herself, as their law 
ordained, and with her brought two of her maidens, 
whom she sent back to her house, that they might 
bring oil and ointments to anoint her. And when the 
two elders saw her alone, they ran to her and said : 

' 9 6 

To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

“ Suffer peacefully that which we would do with thee, 
and if thou do£fc not so, we will bear witness against 
thee and will say that we found thee in adultery.” 
And when Susanna beheld and knew the wickedness of 
the judges, she avised her in her heart and said thus : 
“ Anguftie michi sunt undique, etc. God ! ” quoth she, 
“ Pitfalls lie all about me, for if I do this thing I am 
dead before God and if I do it not, I may not escape 
from their hands save I be tormented and atoned ; 
but better behoveth me to fall into their power without 
sinning than to sin before God.” Then she cried out 
in a loud voice and the two elders cried out likewise, 
until the servants of the house ran to them, and the 
judges said that they had found her in sin with a young 
man that was strong and lusty, and escaped them, so 
that they knew not who he might be. Then were the 
servants marvellously abashed and astonied, for never 
before had they heard tell such a thing of their lady 
nor seen any evil in her ; nathless she was ca£fc into 

And the next day the judges were seated in judgment 
and all the people assembled before them to see the 
marvel, and Susanna was brought to judgment ; her 
parents and friends looked upon her, weeping right 
tenderly. Susanna had her head covered, for the shame 
and abashment that she had, but the judges caused 
her visage to be uncovered for great disgrace and 
despite. Then weeping, she lifted her eyes to heaven, 
for she trusted in Our Lord and in her innocence. 
Then the two priests told before the people how that 
they were walking and taking their ease in the garden 
and saw Susanna come therein and with her two of her 



The Goodman of Paris 

maidens, the which she sent away and barred the door 
behind them ; and they said that then came there a 
young man, the which they saw lie with her, wherefore 
they ran thither and the young man fled away through 
the door, and they could not flop him nor take him, 
but only the aforesaid Susanna, who would not name 
his name ; cc and of this crime we two be witness, 
and for this crime we do condemn her to death 55 . 
Then Susanna cried aloud and spake thus : “ O Ever- 
lasting God, thou knoweft all hidden things and all 
things that be done and thou knoweft well that they 
bear false witness against me ; remember and have 
mercy upon me ! 55 

After this they led her to her torment, and as they 
passed along a road, Our Lord moved the spirit of a 
young and little child hight Daniel, the which began to 
cry with a loud voice : u O people of Israel, this woman 
is falsely judged, return to judgment, return, for the 
judgments are false ! 55 Then the people cried out 
and brought Susanna back to the place where she had 
been judged, and led there the judges and the child 
Daniel, who spake these words : “ Separate these 

judges and lead one here and the other there 55 . 
When this was done he came to the one and asked him 
under what tree he had seen the man and Susanna 
doing their sin, and that judge answered that it was 
beneath an oak. Afterwards the aforesaid Daniel went 
to the other judge and asked beneath which tree he 
had seen Susanna with the young man, and he 
answered : beneath a tree called Lentsicus. Lentsicus 
is a tree that giveth forth oil and the root thereof is a 
spice called mace. Thus was their lie discovered and 


To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

Susanna set free and proved pure and clean, without 
ftain of evil embraces. And it is well proven that she 
was full of the virtue of chaftity when she spake these 
words to the false judges : “ Rather would I fall into 
your hands that be mine enemies and die without sin, 
than sin before God our Lord.” O woman full of 
faith and great loyalty, who feared so God and the 
sin of breaking her marriage vow, that she preferred 
rather to die than to deliver her body to evil embraces ! 
And certes, true it is that the Jews, men and women, 
that be now in this realm, hold this sin in such horror 
and their law is such, that if a woman be taken in 
adultery she shall be ftoned and wounded with ftones 
unto her death, according to their law. Even the wicked 
keep this law and we ought to keep it well, for it is a 
good one . 1 

Another example there is, as Cerxes* the philosopher 
telleth in his book of Chess , in the chapter concerning 
the Queen, and he saith that the Queen ought in all 
things to keep her chafte and to lesson her daughters, 
for, saith he, we read of many maids that have been 
queens because that ‘they guarded their virginity or 
maidenhead. Paul, the historian of the Lombards, 
telleth how that in Italy there was a duchess that was 
named Raymonde 3 and she had a son and two daughters. 
It befel that the king of Hungary hight Cantamus 
quarrelled with the aforesaid Raymonde and came 
before one of her towns and laid siege thereto. She 
and her children were within the fortress and she looked 
forth and saw her enemies making a sally again ft the 
folk of her town, that hotly defended themselves, and 
among the enemy she saw a knight who was fair to look 


The Goodman of Paris 

upon. She was so afire with love of him that she sent 
word, unto him that secretly, through her fortress, she 
would deliver up the town to him, if he would take her 
to wife. And the knight answered yea and thereafter 
she opened the gates of the fortress unto him and he 
and his folk entered therein. When they were within 
the caftle, his folk entered thereby into the town, and 
took men and women and all that they could ; and the 
sons of that woman had so great shame and grief for 
her treason that they left her and betook themselves 
away, and afterwards they were so worthy that one of 
these children that was hight Grimault, to wit the 
younger, was duke of Benevento and afterwards king 
of Lombardy. And the daughters, that knew not 
whither they might flee, and feared left they should 
be ravished by the Hungarians, killed pigeons and laid 
them beneath their breafts, so that at the warmth of 
their breafts the flesh of the pigeons ftank, and when 
the Hungarians would have come near unto them, 
then smelt they the ftink thereof and their luft 
cooled and they turned and left them, saying one to 
the other : “ Fie, how these Lombards ftink ! ” And 
at the la ft these maidens fled by sea to keep their 
virginity and nathless by reason of this good deed that 
they did and their other virtues, one was afterwards 
queen of France and the other queen of Germany. The 
aforesaid knight took that duchess and had his pleasure 
of her for one night to save his oath, and the next day 
he made her common unto all the Hungarians. The 
day after he caused a parchment to be set upon her from 
waift to throat, on the which was writ : “ Even such 
a husband should the whore have who by her bawdry 


To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

hath, betrayed her city and delivered her people into 
the hands of her enemies ”. And these words he 
caused also to be writ upon several parts of her garment, 
and bade bind and tie her all dead to the outer walls 
and before the gate of her city, that all might see her, 
and so left her. 

Again he giveth another example how to cherish the 
marriage [vow] and chastity and saith how saint 
Auguftine in the book of the City of God telleth (and 
I have seen it likewise in Livy) that there lived in Rome 
a very good lady, of great and virtuous heart, hight 
Lucrece, that was wife to a Roman hight Collatine, 
who once bade and invited the emperor Tar quin the 
proud and his son Sextus to dine with him. And they 
dined and were feafted and after dinner they took their 
pleasure, and Sextus looked upon the countenance of 
all the ladies that were there, and among all and above 
all the others, Lucrece and her beauty pleased him 
well. A short while afterwards, the people of a caftle 
which ffcood five leagues away, near unto Rome, 
rebelled againft the emperor, who went to lay siege 
thereto, and with him went Sextus his son, in whose 
company were several of the young men of Rome and 
among them Collatine, the husband of Lucrece. Long 
time were the Romans in siege before that place, and 
on a day that was fair and fine, there were in company 
and drinking together, Sextus, the emperor’s son and 
several of these same young Romans, among whom was 
Collatine, and they plotted among themselves to sup 
betimes, and afterwards to go speedily to Rome to the 
houses of each of these young men, that they might 
see the bearing and behaviour of each of their wives 

The Goodman of Paris 

and their governance, agreeing that he whose wife 
should be found in beft disposition of mind, should 
have the honour of lodging Sextus the emperor’s son 
in his house. Thus they were accorded, and came to 
Rome ; and some ladies they found talking, others 
playing at brie , others at hot cockles, others at “pinch 
me 1 ”, others playing at cards and other games of play 
with their neighbours ; others, who had supped 
together, were singing songs and telling fables and tales 
and asking riddles ; others were in the road with their 
neighbours playing at blind-man’s-buff and at brie 
and so likewise at other games; save only Lucrece, who 
within and in the innermost part of her house, in a 
great chamber far from the road, had with her workers 
in wool, and there, all alone, seated in little space away 
from her workers and apart, she was holding her book 
devoutly and with bent head, and saying her hours 
full humbly. And it was found that neither then nor 
at other times when her husband Collatine was away, 
in whatever company or feaft she was, could man or 
woman make her to dance or sing, save only on the day 
when she had letters from him or when he came back 
to see her ; and then she sang and danced with the 
others, if there were a f ea ft. Wherefore Collatine bore 
away the honour of their coming and Sextus the 
emperor’s son was lodged in his house, and there was 
served and companioned by all the others and their 
wives ; and the next day very early was awakened and 
dressed by the ladies and heard mass and they saw him 
mount and take the road. And on this journey was 
Sextus smitten with love for Lucrece, so deeply that he 
bethought him to return to her in company with other 


To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

folk that were not friends of her nor of her husband. 
Thus did he and came at eve to Lucrece’s house, who 
received him full honourably, and when the time came 
to sleep, they prepared a bed for Sextus as for the 
emperor’s son, and this evil emperor’s son spied where 
Lucrece lay, and after that all there were abed and 
sleeping, came Sextus unto her and set one hand on her 
breaft and the other on his sword and said unto her, 
“ Lucrece, be silent ! I am Sextus, son to the 
emperor Tar quin, if thou speakefb thou art dead 
And she cried out in fear, and Sextus began to beseech 
her. It availed not. Then offered he and promised 
her gifts and services. It availed not. And then he 
threatened her that she should yield to him or he would 
destroy her and all her line. It availed not. When 
he saw that nought of all this availed him, he spake 
thus to her : “ Lucrece, if thou do ft not my will, I 
shall slay thee and I shall slay likewise one of thy 
varlets, and then shall I say that I found you both abed 
together, and for your bawdry slew you ”. And she, 
who feared rather to be shamed before the world than 
to die, consented to do his will. 

And as soon as Sextus was gone away, the lady sent 
letters bidding her husband, who was with the army, 
that he should come to her, and she sent also to seek 
her father, her brothers and all her friends and a man 
that was hight Brutus and was nephew to Collatine 
her husband. And when they were come, she said 
unto them full dreadfully : “ Sextus, the emperor’s 
son, came yefberday as a guefb unto this house, but he 
went not forth as a gueft, but as a foe to thee, Collatine, 
for know that he hath dishonoured thy bed. Nathless, 


The Goodman of Paris 

if my body be dishonoured, so is not my heart, where- 
fore do I absolve me of the sin but not of the punish- 
ment”. Then Collatine her husband saw that she was all 
pale and wan and her face all white and tearful, for the 
mark of tears was upon her visage from her eyes even to 
her lips and her eyes were large and swollen, the lids 
thereof dead and blue, and within red from the running 
of her tears, and she looked and spake piteously. Then 
began he to comfort her full gently and to pardon 
her, and showed unto her many fair reasons why her 
body had done no sin, sith that the heart had not 
consented thereto nor taken delight therein, and he 
fell to quoting ensamples and authorities. But it 
pleased her not ; she brake into his words, saying full 
sharply, “ Oh, oh, nay, nay ! ’Tis too late, all is of no 
avail, for I am not worthy now to live ; and he that 
hath done this to me hath done it to his own great 
mishap, if ye be worth aught, and for that no bawdry 
may prevail by example of Lucrece, let him who would 
take example of the sin and the loss, take likewise 
example of the amends.” And straightway with a 
sword that she had beneath her robe, she Struck herself 
through the body and died before them all. 

Then Brutus, the counsellor and Collatine the 
husband of this same Lucrece, and all her friends, 
weeping and mourning, took the sword all Stained with 
blood, and swore upon the blood of Lucrece that never 
would they hold their hand until they had destroyed 
Tarquin and his son, and pursued him with fire and 
bloodshed, and caSt forth all his race, so that none 
henceforth might rise to any honour. And even so 
was it shortly done, for they bore her through the town 



[face p, 104 

To keep Continence and Live Chastely 

of Rome and so moved the people thereby that each 
man swore to deftroy the emperor Tarquin and his son 
by fire and by bloodshed. Then shut they the gates 
that none might go forth to warn the emperor of their 
intent, and they armed and sallied forth, hurrying like 
mad folk to the place where lay the emperor’s army. 
And when they drew near to the emperor and he heard 
the noise and the tumult and saw the people all dufty 
and the smoke of the horses, and heard what was told 
him, then he and his son fled away, fearful and all 
undone. Whereupon the Romance of the Rose saith 
thus : 

N’onc puis Rommains, pour ce desroy, 

Ne vouldrent faire k Romme roy. 

Ne never was ther king in Rome toun 
Sin thilke day. 1 

So have you two ensamples, the one to keep honour- 
ably widowhood or virginity or maidenhood, the other 
to keep marriage or chastity. And wot you that 
riches, beauty of form and face, lineage and all other 
virtues be all perished and wiped out in a woman that 
hath any ftain or suspicion against one of these virtues 
aforesaid. Certes, then all is loft and blotted, all 
is fallen never to rise again, after a woman hath once 
been suspefted or bruited to the contrary ; and even 
supposing that she be wrongly so suspefted, never can 
that ill fame be wiped away. See then in what ceaseless 
danger a woman sets her honour and the honour of her 
husband’s line and her children, when she shunneth 
not such blame, which she may easily do. And upon 
this it is noteworthy, as I have heard tell, that the 


The Goodman of Paris 

Queens of France, after that they be wed, read never 
sealed letters, save such as be by the hand of their 
husband, as is said, and those read they all alone, and 
for the others they call company and bid them to be 
read by others before them, and say often that they 
know not how to read letter or writing, save that of 
their husband ; and this they do by wise teaching and 
full well, that they may be far even from whisper 
and suspicion, for there is no fear of the deed itself. And 
since ladies so great and so honourable a£t so, the 
lowly ones that have as great need of their husband’s 
love and of good fame ought in troth to do so too. 

And I counsel you that you receive with great joy 
and reverence the loving and private letters of your 
husband, and secretly and all alone read them unto 
yourself, and all alone write again unto him with your 
own hand, if you know how, or by the hand of another 
very privy person ; and write un^o him good and loving 
words and tell him your joys and diversions, and receive 
not nor read any other letters, nor write unto no other 
person, save by another’s hand and in another’s presence, 
and cause them to be read in public. 

Item, they say likewise that after the Queens be 
wed, they never kiss any man, nor father, nor brother 
nor kinsman, save only the King as long as he liveth. 
Why they forebear and whether it be true, I know not. 
These things, dear sifter, be enough to give unto you 
for this article, and they be given you rather for the 
tale, than for the teaching. There is no need to teach 
you in this matter, for, thanks be unto God, from this 
danger and suspicion you are well kept and shall be. 


The Fifth Article 

The fifth article of the first se£lion telleth that you 
ought to be very loving and privy towards your 
husband above all other living creatures, moderately 
loving and privy towards your good and near kinsfolk 
in the flesh and your husband’s kinsfolk, and very 
distant with all other men and most of all with over- 
weening and idle young men, who spend more than 
their means, and be dancers, albeit they have neither 
land nor lineage ; and also with courtiers or too great 
lords, and with all those men and women that be 
renowned of gay and amorous and loose life 1 . 

For to show what I have said, that you ought to be 
very privy and loving with your husband, I set here a 
rustic ensample, that even the birds and the shy wild 
beasls, nay the savage beasts, have the sense and 
practice of this, for the female birds do ever follow and 
keep close to their mates and to none other and follow 
them and fly after them, and not after others. If the 
male birds flop, so also do the females and settle near 
to their mates ; when the males fly away they fly after 
them, side by side. And likewise wild birds, be they 
ravens, crows, jackdaws, nay, birds of prey such as hawks, 
falcons, tercels and goshawks and the like, that be 
nurtured by persons ftrange to them in the beginning, 
after that they have taken food from those Grangers, 
they love them more than others. So likewise is it 


The Goodman of Paris 

with, domestic and field animals, as with wild beafts. 
Of domestic animals you shall see how that a grey- 
hound or mastiff or little dog, whether it be on the 
road, or at table, or in bed, ever keepeth him close to 
the person from whom he taketh his food and leaveth all 
the others and is distant and shy with them ; and if the 
dog is afar off, he always has his heart and his eye upon 
his master ; even if his master whip him and throw 
siones at him, the dog followeth, wagging his tail and 
lying down before his master to appease him, and 
through rivers, through woods, through thieves and 
through battles followeth him. 

Another ensample may be taken from the dog Macaire, 
that saw his mailer slain within a wood, and when he 
was dead left him not, but lay down in the wood near 
to the dead man, and by day went to find food afar off 
and brought it back in his mouth and there returned 
without eating it, but lay down and drank and ate 
beside the corpse of his master, all dead within the 
wood. Afterwards this dog several times fought and 
attacked the man that had slain his mafter, and when- 
ever he found him did assail and attack him ; and in 
the end he overbore the man in the fields on the island 
of Notre Dame at Paris, and even to this day there be 
traces there of the lifts that were made for the dog and 
for the field [of battle]. 

By God, at Niort I saw an old dog, that lay upon the 
pit wherein his mafter had been buried, that had been 
slain by the English, and monseigneur de Berry and a 
great number of lords were led there to see the marvel 
of this dog’s loyalty and love, that day and night left 
not the pit, wherein was his mailer that the English 


To be Loving to your Husband 

had slain. And monseigneur de Berry caused ten francs 
to be given to him, the which were delivered to a 
neighbour to find food for him all his life. 1 

So likewise is it with the beasts of the field ; you shall 
see it in a sheep and a lamb, that follow and be privy 
with their masters and mistresses and with none other ; 
and so too wild beafts, as boar, or stag or hind, that be 
wild by nature, follow and keep near unto their masters 
and mispresses and leave all other. Item, it is likewise 
even with wild beasts that be devouring and ravening, 
as with wolves, lions, leopards and the like, that be 
fierce, and proud and cruel, devouring and ravening • 
they too follow and serve and are privy with those who 
feed them and whom they love and are strange with 
all others. 

Now have you see divers Itrange ensamples, which 
be true and visible to the eye, by the which ensamples 
you see that the birds of the sky and the shy wild 
beafts and even the ravening beasts have the sense 
perfectly to love and be privy with their owners and 
those that be kind to them, and to be strange with 
others ; wherefore for a better and stronger reason 
women, to whom God has given natural sense and who 
are reasonable, ought to have a perfect and solemn love 
for their husbands ; and so I pray you to be very 
loving and privy with your husband who shall be. 


The Sixth Article 

The sixth article of the fir ft seftion saith that you 
shall be humble and obedient towards him that shall 
be your husband, the which article containeth in itself 
four particulars. 

The firft particular saith that you shall be obedient : 
to wit to him and to his commandments whatsoe’er 
they be, whether they be made in earneft or in jeft, or 
whether they be orders to do ftrange things, or whether 
they be made concerning matters of small import or 
of great ; for all things should be of great import to 
you, since he that shall be your husband hath bidden 
you to do them. The second part or particular is 
to underftand that if you have some business to perform 
concerning which you have not spoken to him that 
shall be your husband, nor hath he bethought him 
concerning it, wherefore hath he nothing ordered nor 
forbidden, if the business be urgent and it behoves to 
perform it before he that shall be your husband knoweth 
it, and if you be moved to do after one fashion and you 
feel that he that shall be your husband would be pleased 
to do after another fashion, do you adt according to 
the pleasure of your husband that shall be, rather than 
according to your own, for his pleasure should come 
before yours. 

The third particular is to underftand that if he that 
shall be your husband shall forbid you to do anything, 


To be Humble and Obedient 

whether he forbid you in j eft or in earnest or whether 
it be concerning small matters or great, you muft watch 
that you do not in any manner that which he has 

The fourth particular is that you be not arrogant 
and that you answer not back your husband that shall 
be, nor his words, nor contradict what he saith, above 
all before other people. 

Taking the firfb of the four particulars, which biddeth 
you to be humble and obedient to your husband, the 
Scripture bids it, Ad Ephesios v°, where it is said : 
Mulieres viris suis subdite sint sicut domino, quoniam vir 
caput eft mulieris, sicut Chriflus caput eft Ecclesie. That 
is to say, it is the command of God that wives be 
subject to their husbands as their lords, for the husband 
is the head of the wife, even as our Lord Jesus Christ is 
the head of the Church. Thus it followeth that even 
as the Church is subject and obedient to the command- 
ments, great and small, of Jesus Chrift, as to her head, 
even so wives ought to be subject to their husbands as 
to their head and obey them and all their command- 
ments great and small. And so did Our Lord 
command, as saint Jerome saith, and likewise the 
Decretal, XXXI11 a Quefiione , quinto capitulo: Cum 
caput. Wherefore the apostle writing unto the 
Hebrews saith in the XIII th chapter : Obedite prepositis 
veflris et subjacete eis etc. That is to say, obey them 
that have rule over you and submit yourselves. 

Again it is plainly shown unto you that it is our 
Lord’s word, for that it is said in the beginning that 
woman ought to be in subjection to man. For it is 
said that when at the beginning of the world Adam was 


The Goodman of Paris 

made, our Lord spake these words and said : Let us 
make him an help meet for him. And then from 
Adam’s rib he made woman as help and subject, and 
so it useth to be, and it is reason. Wherefore a woman 
ought to consider well of what condition is he that she 
shal l take, before that she taketh him. For it is as a 
poor Roman said, who without his knowledge or 
desire, was elected emperor bp the Romans, and when 
they brought him unto the throne and the crown he was 
all aftonied ; and one of the fir ft things that he said 
unto the people was this : “ Have a care what you do 
or have done, for so it is that when you have elected 
me and I be made emperor, wot you surely that thence- 
forth my words shall be sharp as razors newly ground”. 
That is to wit that whosoever obeyed not his com- 
mands when he was made emperor, should be under 
pain of losing his head. 

Thus let a woman watch well how and to whom she 
shall be wedded, for however poor or lowly he may have 
been before, nathless for all time to come after the 
marriage, he ought to be and is sovereign and can 
increase or diminish all [that she hath]. Wherefore 
you should think rather of character than of fortune in 
your husband, for you cannot change him afterwards, 
and when you have taken him hold him in love and love 
and obey him humbly. For many women have made 
great gain and come to great honour by their obedience, 
and others by their disobedience have been hindered 
and brought low. 

Concerning this matter of obedience, and the good 
that cometh to the woman that is obedient unto her 
husband, I can draw an ensample that once was 


To be Humble and Obedient 

translated by master Francis Petrarch, who was crowned 
poet at Rome, 1 the which tale runneth thus : 

On the borders of Piedmont in Lombardy, as ’twere 
at the foot of the mountain that divideth France and 
Italy and is called in those parts Monte Video, there is a 
long and lusty country, full of ca files and towns and 
adorned with woods, meadows, rivers, vines, hayfields 
and ploughed fields ; and this land is hight the land 
of Saluzzo, the which of old times ruled over the 
neighbouring country and of old times to this day hath 
been ruled by certain nobles and powerful princes 
hight marquises of Saluzzo, whereof one of the noble ft 
and moft powerful was named Walter, to whom all 
the other folk of this land, as barons, knights, squires, 
burgesses, merchants, and labourers were obeisant. 
This Walter, marquis of Saluzzo, was fair in person, 
ftrong and nimble, of noble blood, rich possessions and 
great lordship, full of all honour and courtesy, and 
perfectly furnished with the precious gifts of nature. 
There was one vice in him, for he much loved solitude, 
and considered not the time to come, and by no means 
would he marry. All his joy and delight was in rivers 
and woods, in hounds and birds, and he took no thought 
for the government of his signory ; wherefore his 
barons besought and admonished him to marry, and 
his people were in great sadness, and moft of all because 
that he would not incline him to marriage. One day 
they came together in great number, and the worthiest 
among them came unto him, and by the mouth of one 
of them spake these words unto him : “ Oh thou, ou r 
lord marquis, the love that we bear to thee giveth us 
courage to speak these poor words. Since we like well 



The Goodman of Paris 

and ever have liked thee and all the things that are in 
thee, and we hold ourselves happy to have such a lord, 
yet one thing lacketh in thee, the which if thou wilt 
grant it to us, we hold ourselves in better felicity than 
all our neighbours : it is to wit that you will please to 
incline your heart to the bonds of marriage and that 
your paft liberty be a little restrained and brought 
within the marriage law. Thou knoweft, Sire, how 
that the days pass and flee away and never return. 
And although thou art in thy green youth, nathless, 
from day to day death menaceth and approacheth thee, 
for it spareth no age and no man may escape it. All 
mu St die, but none knoweth how, nor when, nor what 
day, nor by what end. We, then, thy people, who never 
yet refused thy beheSt, we pray thee very humbly that 
we have liberty to choose thee a lady of fit lineage, of 
noble birth and fair person, adorned with goodness and 
good sense, whom it shall please thee to take in marriage 
and through whom we hope to have lineage and a lord 
of thy line to succeed thee. Sire, do this grace to thy 
loyal subjects, if ought were to befal thy high and 
noble person and thou wert to depart from this world 
it should not be without heir and successor and sad 
and thy mournful subjects should not be left without a 
lord ”. 

When they had made an end the marquis was moved 
to pity for his sub j efts and replied to them very gently, 
saying : “ My friends, you con ft rain me to that in 
which I can never find my heart ; for I rejoiced me in 
liberty and in that free will which seldomtime is found 
in marriage, as they know well that have proved it. 
Nathless for your love do I submit me to your will. 

IX 4 

*' J **?& % 

r ■ ' * * ,, f; ■ ■ 


[ face p. 114 

To be Humble and Obedient 

True it is that marriage is a doubtful thing and often- 
times children be not like their father. Nathless if the 
father have any good of them, he ought not therefore to 
say that it is his by right, but that it cometh from God 
above ; to Him do I commend the fate of my marriage, 
in hope that of his bounty he will grant me a wife with 
whom I can live in the peace and quiet that be necessary 
to my salvation. I grant you, my friends, and promise 
you that I will take a wife ; but I am in mind to choose 
her myself, and I charge you that you promise me one 
thing : assuredly it is this, that whomsoever I shall take 
to wife, be she daughter to the Prince of the Romans, 
or a serf, or another, you shall love her and honour her 
entirely, and that none of you be ill content with her 
after my choice, nor grudge nor murmur againft her ”. 

Then all the barons and sub j efts of the marquis were 
rejoiced that they had their will, of the which thing 
they had oftentimes despaired. With one voice they 
thanked the marquis their lord, and promised with 
hearty will the reverence and obedience which he had 
asked of them. Great joy was there in the palace of 
Salazzo, and the marquis granted a day for his bridal 
whereon he should take a wife, and he bade make great 
preparations, greater than ever before was made by 
any other marquis, and likewise bade summon kinsmen 
and friends, neighbours and ladies of the land for the 
aforesaid day ; the which thing was solemnly performed 
and while the preparations were a-making, the marquis 
of Saluzzo, as was his cuftom, went forth to take his 
delight in hunting and hawking. 

Not far from the caftle of Saluzzo there slood a little 
village wherein dwelt a few labourers, by the which 


The Goodman of Paris 

village the marquis was often wont to pass, and among 
the aforesaid labourers was an old man and poor, who 
could not help himself, and was called Janicula. This 
poor man had a daughter hight Griselda, fair enough to 
sight, but fairer ffcill in life and virtuous ways ; she 
had been poorly fostered up by the labour of her 
father ; never had she known delicious meats nor 
delicate things. A ripe and virtuous heart dwelt 
sweetly in her virgin breaft ; gently and in great 
humility she supported and sustained her father’s age 
and fofiered him ; and she diligently kept a few sheep 
that he had, going with them and spinning continually 
with her distaff in the fields. And when Griselda 
homeward came at eve and brought back her beafts 
to her father’s house, she gave them forage, and pre- 
pared for herself and her father the food that God gave 
them. And in brief all the courtesy and service that she 
might do unto her father, she gently performed it. 

The marquis was aware by common renown of the 
virtue and great goodness of this same Griselda, and 
when he rode to take his pleasure he oftentimes looked 
upon her, and her fair ways and great goodness laid 
hold upon his heart. And in the end he determined 
in his heart that Griselda and none other should by 
him be raised to be his wife and lady of Saluzzo, 
and he bade his lords to the wedding on the day 
determined. That day drew near, and the lords, 
nothing knowing of the maid that the marquis was 
minded to take, were sore aftonied. Nathless they 
knew well that the marquis had caused to be made rich 
robes, girdles, brooches and rings measured upon a 
maiden like in Stature to Griselda. So it befel that the 




[face p. 116 


To be Humble and Obedient 

wedding day was come and all the palace of Saluzzo 
was filled with barons and knights, with ladies and 
damsels, burgesses and other folk, but no news was 
there of their lord’s bride, whereat they marvelled 
much ; nay, more, the hour of the dinner drew near, 
and all the officers were ready each to do his office. 
Then the marquis of Saluzzo, as one that would go 
forth to meet his bride, set out from his palace, and a 
great troop of lords and ladies, min sir els and heralds 
followed after him. 

But the maid Griselda knew nought of all this, for 
that same morning she arrayed and cleaned and ordered 
her father’s house, that she might go with the other 
maidens, her neighbours, to see their lord’s bride. 
And even as the marquis drew nigh Griselda was 
bearing a water-pot upon her head to her father’s 
house, and then came the marquis with all his company, 
and called the maid by name and asked her where her 
father was. Griselda set her pot upon the ground and 
on her knees, humbly and with great reverence, 
answered: “ Lord, he is in the house”. “Go to him”, 
said the marquis, “ and bid him come speak with me.” 
And she went. Then the poor man Janicula came out 
of the house. The marquis took him by the hand and 
led him aside, and said thus to him secretly : “ Janicula, 
I wot well that thou haft ever loved and doffc love me, 
and what pleaseth me should please thee likewise. One 
thing I would have of thee, to wit that thou wilt give 
me thy daughter to wife ”. The poor man dared not 
speak, and after a short space he answered very humbly 
on his knees : “ Lord, I ought neither to like nor to 
m islike aught save what pleaseth thee, for thou art 

The Goodman of Paris 

my lord Then, said the marquis : “ Go into thine 
house alone, thou and thy daughter, for I would ask her 
something”. The marquis went into the house of the 
poor man Janicula, as is aforesaid, and all the people 
remained outside and much they marvelled ; and the 
maiden kept her close to her father, fearful, shamefast 
and abashed at the sudden coming of her lord and his 
great and noble company, for she had never learned to 
see so great a gueft in their house. The marquis spoke 
to her and these were his words ; “ Griselda, it pleaseth 
thy father and me that thou shalt be my wife, and I 
suppose well that thou wilt not refuse me, but I have a 
thing to ask thee before thy father ; to wit, that if I 
take thee to wife, the which thing shall be even now, I 
would know if thou wilt incline thy heart entirely to 
do my will, in such manner that I may do with thee and 
all that concerneth thee, as beft meseemeth, without 
argument or contradiction by thee, either in word or 
deed, in sign or thought ? ” Then Griselda, abashed 
and marvelling much at this great thing, answered : 
“ Lord, I know well that I am not worthy to be called 
thy wife, nor even to be called thy servant wench, 
but if it please thee and fortune offer it to me, never 
will I wittingly do or think anything againft thy will, 
and never will I deny anything that thou mayft do 
against me”. “ It is enough”, said the marquis, and 
took the maiden by the hand and led her forth from the 
house into the mid ft of his lords and his people and 
spoke thus : “ My friends, this is my wife, your lady, 
love and fear and honour her, and if you love me, love 
her very dearly And for that she should bring with 
her no relic of the ill hap of poverty, the marquis 


5 * 


{face p. 118 

To be Humble and Obedient 

ordered the ladies and matrons to undress her all naked 
from foot to head, and clothe her anew in rich robes 
and bridal array. 

Then set the ladies to work : some dressed her, 
others shod her, others set on her girdle, others pinned 
brooches upon her, and sewed her with pearls and 
precious Clones, others combed their lady’s hair and 
dressed her head and set a rich crown thereupon, that 
she had never seen the like and it was small wonder that 
she marvelled. Who then saw a poor girl, brown with 
the sun and thin from poverty, so nobly adorned and 
richly crowned and suddenly transformed so that the 
people scarce knew her, well might he marvel thereat. 

Then the lords took their lady and joyfully led her 
to church and there the marquis set a ring upon her 
finger and wedded her after the ordinance of holy 
Church and the custom of the country. And when the 
divine office was over, the lady Griselda was seated on 
a white palfrey and by all the throng was accompanied 
and brought to the palace, where all manner of instru- 
ments sounded forth. And the wedding was celebrated 
and the day was passed in great joy and consolation by 
the Marquis and all his friends and subjects. And the 
lady was so filled with sense and bore her so worship- 
fully with her lord and husband, this poor lady 
Griselda shone so with divine grace, that each man said 
she seemed not to be brought up and nurtured in a 
shepherd’s or labourer’s cot, but rather in a royal or 
imperial palace. And she was so loved and cherished 
and honoured by all that had known her from her 
childhood, that they could scarce believe that she was 
the poor man Janicula’s daughter. 


The Goodman of Paris 

The fair maid was of such discreet life and sweet 
eloquence that she drew the hearts of all to love her, not 
only the marquis’s subjects and neighbours, but the folk 
of all the provinces round about ; and the lords and 
ladies came to visit her by reason of her good fame, 
and all went from her rejoiced and comforted. . And 
thus the marquis and Griselda lived happily in the 
palace in peace and quiet, in the grace of God and 
men ; and this lady not only busied herself wisely and 
diligently with all the homely arts that belong unto 
women, but at the belief!: of her lord and in his presence 
she wisely and diligently busied herself likewise with 
public affairs. F or when there arose debate and discord 
among nobles, she so appeased them by her fair words, 
ripe judgment and good equity, that all with one voice 
said that this lady had been sent them by heaven for 
the salvation of the people. 

Not long time after, the lady Griselda grew big with 
child and then bore a fair daughter, and the marquis 
and all the people of the land had thereof great joy 
and consolation, albeit they had liever that she had had 
a boy. Time passed and the days came when the 
marquis’s daughter was weaned. Then the marquis, 
who loved his wife much for the great virtue that he 
saw increase in her daily, bethought him to assay her 
and tempt her sorely. He came into her chamber, 
showing her a troubled countenance and as one 
wrathful said thus : “ O thou, Griselda, although 
that thou art at present raised to this pleasant dignity, 
yet I trow thou haft not forgotten thine eftate in time 
pas!, and how and in what manner thou did ft enter 
this palace ; thou haft been honoured and to me thou 


To be Humble and Obedient 

art ftill lief and dear ; but it is not as thou thinkeft in 
the mind of my vassals, and especially since thou hadft 
a child. For they have great scorn to be subject to a 
lady born of such small parents and low estate, and I 
desire, as their lord, to ha ve peace with them ; so muft I 
bow and consent to their will and not to my own, and 
do with thy daughter a thing that could not be more 
sorrowful to my heart, the which thing I would not 
do without thy witting. So will I that thou should ft 
assent and lend thy free will thereunto, and bear 
patiently what shall be done, showing me that patience 
that thou didft promise at the beginning of our 

When the marquis ended these words, which in good 
sooth pierced her to the heart, the lady neither changed 
hue nor showed any sign of sadness, but humbly to her 
lord she answered : £< Thou art my lord, and I and this 
little maid be thine ; do what thou wilt with thine 
own. Nothing can be pleasing to thee that ought not 
likewise to please me, and this have I so rooted in the 
mid ft of my heart that no length of time, nor death 
itself can efface it, and all other things may happen 
before I change my mind in this ”. Then the marquis, 
hearing his wife’s reply, and seeing her fteadfaft and 
humble mien, had great joy in his heart, but he hid it 
and departed from her with sad and dreary looks. 

Soon after this the marquis called to him a loyal 
and secret man of his, in whom he had all truft, and 
committed to this sergeant all his intent in the matter 
of his daughter, and sent him to his lady. The 
sergeant came before the lady and soberly spake these 
words to her : “ Madam, I pray thee to forgive me and 


The Goodman of Paris 

impute not to me that which I am constrained to do. 
Thou art a wise lady and knowell what it is to be 
beneath lords whose behests never by force nor by 
guile may be resilted. Madam, I am enforced to 
take this child and perform what I am bidden ”. Then 
the lady, remembering her lord’s words in her heart, 
underltood well and misdoubted that her daughter 
mult die. She took heart virtuously and comforted 
herself, vanquishing nature for to fulfil her promise and 
acquit herself and do her lord’s bidding. And sighing 
not nor showing other mark of sorrow, she took her child 
and looked long upon it and gently kissed it and made 
the sign of the cross upon it ; then gave she it to the 
sergeant, thus saying : “ Go now and do and accomplish 
fully all that my lord hath commanded thee ; yet 
would I pray thee that the tender body of this maid be 
not eaten by birds or wild bealls, save it be so ordered 

The sergeant left the lady, carrying the child, and 
privily came to the marquis and showed him his 
daughter, and told him how that he had found the lady 
of great courage, and without contradiction obedient 
to him. The marquis considered his wife’s great 
virtue and looked upon his daughter and had fatherly 
compassion upon her, and he would not change the 
hardness of his purpose, but he bade the sergeant, in 
whom he had trull, to wrap up the child as gently as 
might be for her ease, and to set her in a pannier upon 
a mule with gentle paces, and without delay carry her 
secretly to Bologna the Rich, to his siller that was wife 
to the count of Perugia ; and to show to his siller 
upon the love she bore him, that she should have the 


To be Humble and Obedient 

child fostered and taught in all gentleness, and do it so 
privily that neither her husband the count nor any 
living wight should ever know thereof. 

The which sergeant forthwith departed by night and 
carried the maid to Bologna the Rich and delivered his 
message full diligently as he was bidden. And the 
countess received her niece with great joy and did very 
wisely all that the marquis her brother had asked of her. 

Thus patiently did Griselda pass this ftormy time, 
the which pierced her entrails, and firmly in her heart 
she believed that her child was dead and slain ; and the 
marquis bore himself as aforetime to his wife, nor spoke 
word to her of her daughter, and often looked upon 
her face, her bearing and her cheer, to see and subtly 
to assay whether he could see in her any sign of grief, 
but no change of heart could he understand or see in 
her, but ever the same glad service, the same love, the 
same courage ; for the lady was ever as she had been 
unto her lord, nor showed she any sadness nor spake 
of her daughter in the presence of the marquis or in 
his absence. 

Thus the marquis and his wife passed four years 
together in great love, leading a loving and peaceful 
life. And at the end of four years the lady Griselda 
bore a son of marvellous beauty, wherefore the marquis 
and his friends and subjects and all the country were 
full of joy. When the child was weaned from his 
nurse and two years old, growing in great beauty, the 
marquis was moved again to try his marvellous and 
perillous assay and came to his wife and said : “ Thou 
knoweft and haft heard how that my people were ill 
content with our marriage and especially since they have 


The Goodman of Paris 

seen that thou art not barren and beared children. 
Nathless never were my barons and my people so ill 
content as they be now, especially for that thou haft 
born a male child, and they say often and mine ears 
have heard them murmur and say mockingly : ‘ When 
Walter is agone, then shall the goodman Janicula be 
our lord ; lo to what a lord shall this noble land be 
sub j eft ! ’ Every day there rise such murmurs ; and 
by reason of these words and fears, I, that would live 
in peace with my subjects, and am in great fear for my 
life, am conftrained and moved to do with this child 
as I did with his sifter, the which thing I tell unto thee, 
that a sudden sorrow may not shake thy heart 

O what sorrowful thoughts mu ft this lady have hid in 
her heart, remembering the foul death of her daughter 
and that the like was ordained for her only son of two 
years old ! Who is there, not only say I among women, 
that be tender of nature and loving to their children, 
but among the ftrongeft men of courage that could be 
found, who could support such a sentence on his only 
son ? Liften, ye queens, princesses and countesses 
and all other women, and hear what answer the lady 
made unto her lord and take example : “ My lord ”, 
quoth she, “ I said before and again I say it, that 
naught will I or will I not, save that which pleaseth 
thee. Thou art lord of me and of my children. Do 
therefore as thou wilt with thine own and ask not my 
consent. When firft I entered thy palace, I put off 
my poor clothes and my own will and affe&ion and put 
on thine, wherefore all that thou desireft, I desire. 
Certes if I had prescience to know thy thoughts and 
desires before thou toldeft them to me, whatsoever 


To be Humble and Obedient 

they were I would accomplish them after my power, 
for naught is there in the world, neither parents, nor 
friends, nor mine own life that that can compare with 
thy love 5 . 

The marquis of Saluzzo, hearing his wife’s words and 
marvelling in his heart at her great virtue and fteadfaft- 
ness without compare and at the true love that she 
bore him, answered her not, but went forth with eyes 
caft down, as though heavy at that which he mu ft do 
unto his son, and soon afterwards, as he had done 
aforetime, sent a loyal sergeant secretly to the lady. 
The which sergeant after many excuses, showing her 
gently that he mu ft needs obey his lord, very humbly 
and piteously prayed his lady’s pardon if before he had 
done aught to displease her and so mu ft do again, and 
besought her to forgive his great cruelty and asked for 
the child. The lady, without delay or sign of grief, 
took her fair son in her arms, and without tear or 
sighing, looked long upon him, and as she had done to 
his sifter, she signed him with the sign of the cross, 
and blessed him, tenderly kissing him, and delivered 
him to the sergeant, saying : “ Take him, my friend, 
and do as is bidden thee ; one thing I pray thee as I did 
before, if it may be, that thou wilt save the tender 
limbs of this child that they be not difturbed or 
devoured by birds and wild beafts 

The sergeant took the child and bore him secretly 
to his lord and told him all that he had heard from his 
lady, and more than ever did the marquis marvel at 
the great and fteadfaft courage of his wife, and had 
he not known well the great love she bore her children 
he might have thought that such courage came not of 


The Goodman of Paris 

humanity but of beaffial cruelty, and he saw full 
clearly that this wife loved nothing beneath heaven 
more than her husband. 

The marquis sent his son secretly to Bologna to his 
sifter, even as he had sent his daughter, and his sifter, 
the countess of Perugia, after the will of her brother 
the marquis fostered his daughter and son so wisely 
that none might know whose children they were, until 
the marquis ordained as shall appear hereafter. 

Now certes the assay which the marquis of Saluzzo, 
as a cruel and exacting husband, had made of his wife 
might well have sufficed him, without trying nor 
tormenting her more. But some there be who, when 
that they have set forth upon the path of suspicion, 
know not how to end nor slake their purpose. 

When it had befallen thus, the marquis conversing 
with his wife looked often upon her, to see whether 
she showed him any change by reason of the things 
that were pa ft, but never saw he in her any variance 
or altered cheer. Day after day he found her joyous 
and loving and more obedient, so that all could see 
that in these two persons there was but one mind, the 
which mind and will was chiefly the husband’s, for as is 
aforesaid, she had no desire of her own, but laid all 
to her husband’s will. While the marquis lived thus 
lovingly with his wife, in great repose and in great joy, 
he learned that ill fame was abroad concerning him, to 
wit that the marquis was shamed that, taking no heed 
of his great lineage, he had taken in marriage the 
daughter to the poor man Janicula, and had had of her 
two children, and therefore he had had them done to 
death and caft away none knew where. And although 


To be Humble and Obedient 

they loved him well aforetime as their natural lord, 
nathless for this reason they held him in hatred, the 
which he well knew. Nathless, by no means would he 
ftint nor soften his cruel purpose, but took thought 
again and again to prove and tempt his wife by a yet 
stronger argument and harder teft, by wedding another 

Twelve years were then passed since his daughter’s 
birth ; the marquis sent privily to Rome to the holy 
father the Pope and sought of him sacred bulls, by the 
which the rumour should go forth to his people that the 
marquis had leave of the Pope of Rome, for the peace 
and repose of himself and his subjects, to lay aside his 
fir ft marriage, and take in lawful wedlock another 
woman. The rude people thought full well that it 
had been so, and were roused again ft their lord. The 
cold tidings of this bull, by which the marquis should 
take another wife, came to the ears of Griselda, daughter 
of Janicula, and her heart was full woe, as is no marvel. 
But she that once had submitted herself and all that was 
hers to her lord’s will, freely considered and took counsel 
with herself, and fteeled her heart and took comfort, 
disposing her to await all that he to whom she was in 
submission should ordain. 

Then did the marquis send a note to the Count of 
Perugia and his sifter, bidding them bring home his 
children, without saying whose they might be, and his 
sifter wrote that she would do his will. Their coming 
was speedily spread abroad and the rumour went forth 
throughout all the land that a fair virgin sprung of a 
great lineage was coming to wed the marquis of 


The Goodman of Paris 

turned away his face and weeping bade them to give 
her a single smock at eventide. Thus it was done ; and 
at eventide she stripped her of all her clothes, and put 
off her shoes and the ornaments that were on her head, 
and humbly she clad herself in the one smock that her 
lord had given her, and was content therewith, and 
with head and feet all bare she departed from the 
palace, and with her went barons and knights, ladies 
and maidens, weeping and consideringhergreat virtues 
and loyalty, and marvellous goodness and patience. 
All wept, but she shed no tear, but honeftly and simply, 
with eyes upon the ground, fared towards the house 
of her father Janicula, who heard the noise of this great 
company drawing nigh. And because that Janicula 
was old and wise and had always held his daughter’s 
marriage in suspicion, thinking that when his lord was 
weary of so lowly a marriage, with so poor a creature, 
he, that was a great lord, would lightly send her away, 
he was adrad and came quickly to the door and saw 
that it was his daughter all naked ; then hastily took 
he the poor, torn dress which she had left long ago, and 
weeping ran to meet his daughter and kissed her and 
clad and covered her with this old dress. And when 
Griselda was come to the threshold of her father’s 
house, showing no semblance of scorn or anger, she 
turned her to the lords, ladies and maidens that had 
accompanied her, and very gently and humbly thanked 
them for their escort and company, and said and showed 
to them by fair, soft words how that for the love of 
God they should not say, or think, or believe that her 
lord the marquis had done her any wrong, and that it 
was not so, but that he had good cause to do all that 


To be Humble and Obedient 

he pleased with her, that was bound to suffer and bear 
it. And she bade them wot well that naught was 
displeasing to her, and admonished them for the love 
of God to love their husbands truly and full cordially 
and to serve and honour them with all their might, and 
that they could have no greater good, nor higher 
renown, nor better praise than this, and bade them 
farewell. And thus she entered her father’s house 
and the lords and ladies who had accompanied her 
returned, weeping and sore sighing and moaning, so 
that they might not look upon each other nor speak. 

Griselda with all things was content ; forgetting and 
caring naught for the great riches that she had had, and 
the great service, reverence and obedience that had 
been shown to her, she dwelt humbly with her father 
as aforetime, poor in spirit and in full great humility 
towards her poor friends and her father’s old neighbours 
and lived a full lowly life. And well may the sorrow 
and small comfort of poor Janicula be imagined, that 
in his old age saw his daughter in such poor and small 
estate, after such great and high honour and wealth ; 
but it was a marvellous good thing to see how 
benignantly, humbly and wisely she cared for him, and 
when she saw him heavy how wisely she comforted him, 
and afterwards led him to speak of another matter. 

Many days passed as hath been said, and the count of 
Perugia and his noble company drew nigh, and all the 
people of the country murmured against the nuptials 
of the marquis. The count of Perugia, brother to the 
marquis, sent several knights ahead to show his brother 
the marquis of Saluzzo the day of his coming and that 
he was bringing with him the virgin that the marquis 

I 3 I 

The Goodman of Paris 

led each, to his room that was richly arrayed. And 
when they had seen and considered the deeds and the 
bearing of Griselda, all marvelled how that such honour 
and reverence could be in so poor a garb. 

Griselda after this went to the damsel and to the 
child, and could in no wise leave them. For an hour 
she gazed upon the maiden’s beauty and the gracious 
bearing of the young boy, and she wearied not in 
praising them. The hour drew near when all should 
sit down to meat ; and then the marquis called 
Griselda to him before them all and in a loud voice 
quoth he : “ How likest thou this my wife, Griselda ? 
Is she not fair and honourable enow ? ” Griselda, 
wisely and aloud and upon her knees answered : 
“ Certes, my lord, I trow that never saw I a fairer and 
more honourable. My lord, with her you may lead 
a joyful and honourable life, the which thing in good 
faith do I desire ; but, my lord, I do beseech and warn 
you that you prick not with Strange torments this new 
wife, for, my lord, you shall bethink you that she is 
young and sprung of a great line and tenderly foStered, 
and she could not endure them as the other hath 
endured, to my thinking 

Then the marquis, hearing Griselda’s wise and gentle 
words and considering the good cheer and great 
constancy that she showed and ever had, felt a piteous 
ruth in his heart and could no more withhold to show 
his will, and in the presence of them all and in a loud 
voice he spake thus : “ O Griselda ! Griselda ! I see 
and know and am content with thy true faith and 
loyalty ; and thy love for me, thy conStant obedience 
and true humility I have assayed and well proved, and 


To be Humble and Obedient 

am constrained thereby to say that never, I wifi, hath 
any man beneath heaven assayed his wife as sore as I 
have thee Then Griselda blushed, with bent head, 
in honeft shame for the great praise wherewith she was 
praised by the marquis her lord before so many people. 
The marquis weeping took her in his arms and kissed 
her and said : “ Thou only art my wife and none other 
will I ever have. This is thy daughter, whom thou 
ha si supposed to be my wife, and this child is thy son ; 
the which children all our subjects wift were loft. 
Know then, all ye that thought the contrary, that I was 
in mind curiously and rigorously to prove this my loyal 
wife, and not to contemn nor to despise her, and I have 
had her children privily bred up by my sifter at Bologna 
and have nor harmed nor slain them 

And when the lady Griselda heard her husband’s 
words, she fell in a swoon before him to the ground, for 
the joy that she had to see her children. They raised 
her up and when she was recovered she took her two 
children and gently embraced and kissed them, so that 
they were covered with her tears, and none might take 
them from her arms, the which was a piteous thing to 
see. The ladies and the damsels, weeping for joy, took 
their lady Griselda and led her to a' chamber and Gripped 
her of her poor dress and array, and clad her in others 
and honoured her as befitted a marquise. Then was 
there such great and solemn rejoicing for that the 
marquis’s children were come back, to the inestimable 
comfort of their mother and of the marquis and his 
friends and subjects, that the great joy thereof was 
spread throughout the land, and many tears of pity 
were shed that day in the palace of Saluzzo, and none 


The Goodman of Paris 

wearied of faithfully recording the great and un- 
matched virtues of Griselda, who seemed rather the 
daughter of an emperor for her bearing, or of Solomon 
for her prudence, than the child of the poor Janicula. 
Greater and more joyous was the feaft than was the 
revel of their bridal, and the marquis and his lady lived 
together in great love and peace and concord for the 
space of twenty years. And as to Janicula, father of 
Griselda, of whom he had taken no heed in time pa ft, to 
prove that old man’s daughter, the said marquis 
brought him to the palace of Saluzzo and there held 
him in great honour all the days of his life. And the 
marquis married his daughter to a great and powerful 
lord, and when his son was of age he married him 
likewise, and they had children whom he lived to see ; 
and after his gracious end, he left his son as his heir 
and successor in Saluzzo, to the great consolation of all 
his friends and sub j efts. 

Dear sifter, this ftory was translated by mafter 
Francis Petrarch, crowned poet at Rome, in no wise 
only to move good ladies to be patient in the tribula- 
tions that they suffer from their husbands for the love 
of those same husbands alone, but ’twas translated to 
show that since God and the church and reason will 
that they be obedient and since their husbands will 
that they have much to suffer, and since to escape worse 
things it behoves them of need to submit them in all 
things to the will of their husbands and to suffer 
patiently all that those husbands will, and since again 
and nathless these good ladies ought to hide and be 
silent concerning them and notwithftanding appease 
them and recall them and ever with good cheer bring 


To be Humble and Obedient 

themselves nigh again to the grace and. love of those 
husbands that be mortal, by how much the greater 
reason behoveth it for men and women to suffer 
patiently the tribulations which God, who is immortal, 
eternal and everlasting, sendeth unto them. And not- 
withstanding the death of friends, the loss of goods and 
children and lineage, discomfiture by enemies, captures, 
slayings, losses, fire, tempest. Storms of weather, floods 
of water, or other sudden tribulations, ever ought we to 
suffer patiently and return, join and recall ourselves 
lovingly and beseechingly to the love of the immortal 
ruler, eternal and everla Sting God, by the ensample 
of this poor woman, born in poverty, of lowly folk 
without honour or learning, who so much suffered for 
her mortal friend. 

And I, that have set the tale here merely to lesson 
you, have not set it here to apply it to you, nor because 
I would have such obedience from you, for I am not 
worthy thereof, and also I am no marquis nor have I 
taken in you a shepherdess, and I am not so foolish, so 
overweening nor of so small sense that I know not well 
that ’tis not for me to assault nor to assay you thus, 
nor in like manner. God keep me from trying you in 
this way or in others, under colour of false simulations! 
Nor otherwise in any manner would I assay you, for 
sufficeth unto me the proof I have already made by the 
good fame of your predecessors and yourself, together 
with what I feel and see with mine eyes and know by 
true experience. And excuse me if the ftory telleth 
of cruelty too great (to my mind) and above reason. 
And wot you that it never befel so, but thus the tale 
runs, and I may neither correct it nor make another, 


The Goodman of Paris 

for a wiser than I compiled and told it. And I would 
that since others have seen it, you also should see 
and know how to talk about all things, like to the 
others . 1 

Thus, dear sifter, as I have said before that it behoves 
you to be obedient to him that shall be your husband, 
and that by good obedience a wise woman gains her 
husband’s love and at the end hath what she would of 
him ; even so may I say that by default of obedience, 
or by arrogance if you anger him, you deftroy yourself 
and your husband and your household. And for an 
ensample I set a tale which saith thus : It befel that a 
wedded pair had a dispute with each other, to wit the 
wife againft the husband ; for each of them said that 
he or she was the wiser, the nobler in lineage and the 
worthier, and like fools did they argue againft each 
other, and the wife so bitterly maintained her violence 
againft her husband, who in the beginning, perchance, 
had not lessoned her gently, that friends were driven 
to intervene to save a harmful slander. Many meet- 
ings of friends were held, many reproaches exchanged, 
and no remedy could be found, but the wife muft 
needs in her pride have her rights set down clearly, 
point by point, and the obediences and services that 
the friends told her she muft pay to her husband set 
down and written in articles on the one hand, and 
this and that from her husband to her on the other 
hand, and thus might they dwell together, if not in 
love, at lea ft in peace. Thus it came about, and for 
some time they dwelt together, and the wife narrowly 
guarded her rights by her charter againft her husband, 
who was fain, to avoid worse things, to have or to feign 


To be Humble and Obedient 

patience in the despite that he had thereby, for he had 
begun to amend her too late. 

One day they were going on a pilgrimage and it 
behoved them to pass by a narrow plank over a ditch. 
The husband went firft, then turned and saw that his 
wife was fearful and dared not come after him ; and 
the husband was adrad left if she should come, the fear 
itself should make her fall, and kindly he returned to 
her and took and held her by the hand ; and leading 
her along the plank, held her and talked to her, assuring 
her that she should have no fear, and so went the good 
man backwards and talking the while. Then fell he 
into the water, that was deep, and he Struggled hard 
in the water to save him from the danger of drowning, 
and caught and held onto an old plank that had fallen 
therein long time pa ft, and was floating there, and he 
cried to his wife that with the help of her Staff that she 
bore, she should draw the plank to the bank of the Stream 
and save him. But she answered thus : “ Nay, nay ” 
quoth she, “ I will look fir St in my charter whether 
it be written therein that I mu St do so, and if it be 
therein, I will do it, and otherwise not ”. She looked 
therein, and because that her charter made no mention 
thereof, she answered that she would do naught and 
left him and went her way. Long time was the 
husband in the water until he was at point of death. 
The lord of the land and his people passed by the place 
and saw him and rescued him when he was nigh dead. 
They caused him to be warmed and eased, and when 
that speech returned to him, they asked him what had 
befallen and he told them. Then the lord caused the 
wife to be followed and taken and had her burnt. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Now see you to what an end pride brought her, that 
in her great disobedience was fain so ftraitly to keep 
her rights againft her husband. 

And, by God, it is not always the season to say to 
one’s ruler : “ I will do naught, it is not reasonable ” ; 
greater good cometh by obeying, wherefore I take my 
ensample from the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 
when the Angel Gabriel brought her tidings that Our 
Lord should be conceived in her. She did not answer : 
“ It is not reasonable, I am maid and virgin, I will not 
suffer it, I shall be defamed ” ; but obediently she 
answered : Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum, as who 
should say : Be it unto me according to thy word. 
Thus was she truly humble and obedient, and of her 
humility and obedience great good hath come to us, 
and by disobedience and pride cometh great ill and a 
foul end, as is aforesaid concerning her that was burnt 
and as ye may read in the Bible of Eve, by whose dis- 
obedience and pride she and all women that were and 
shall be after her, were and have been accursed by the 
word of God. For, as the Historian 1 saith, because 
Eve sinned doubly she had two curses. Fir£l, 
when she uprose in her pride and would have been 
like unto God : wherefore was she cast down and 
humbled in the firft curse, wherein God spake thus : 
Multifile abo esrumnas tuas et sub potentate viri eris, et 
ipse dominabitur tibi. To wit : I will greatly multiply 
thy sorrow and thou shalt be in the power of man and 
he shall rule over thee. The History saith that before 
she sinned, she was somewhat in subjection to 
man, for that she had been made of man his rib, but 
that subjection was full gentle and mild, and bom of 


To be Humble and Obedient 

right obedience and true will, but after this curse she 
was subjedt in all things of necessity, whether she would 
or no, and all other women that sprang and shall spring 
from her, have had and shall have to suffer and obey 
all that their husbands would, and shall be forced to do 
their commandments. The second curse was this : 
Miltiplicabo conceptus tuos ; in dolore paries Jilios tuos. 
God said : I will multiply thy conception and in 
sorrow shalt thou bring forth children. The History 
saith that the curse was not for the child, but con- 
cerning the pain that women have in bringing forth 

See ye likewise the curse that our Lord set upon the 
disobedience of Lucifer. For once Lucifer was the 
modi solemn angel and the moft beloved and the nearest 
to God that was then in Paradise, and therefore he was 
hight Lucifer, which is as ’twere lucem ferens, to wit 
bearing light, for in the eyes of the others all light and 
joy was there where he came, for that he represented 
and brought remembrance of that sovereign Lord, 
who so loved him and from whom he came and 
to whom he was so near. And as soon as this same 
Lucifer set aside humility, and puffed up his heart 
with pride, Our Lord set him further away from Him, 
for He caused him to fall lower than all others, to wit 
to the lowermost depths of hell, where he is the lowest, 
the worft and the moft wicked of the evil ones. And 
likewise wot you that you shall be so close to your 
husband that wheresoever he goeth he will carry the 
memory and remembrance of you. And you may see 
it in all wedded folk, for no sooner do we see the 
husband than we ask him : “ How doth your wife ? ” 

The Goodman of Paris 

and likewise when we see the wife : “ How doth your 
husband ? ” So close is wife to husband. 

Thus see you, as well by the judgments of God 
Himself as by the ensamples above written, that if you 
be not obedient in all things great and small to your 
husband that shall be, you shall be more to be blamed 
and punished by your said husband than any other 
that shall disobey him, inasmuch as you be nearer to 
him. If you be less obedient, and your chambermaid, 
by good disposition or by service or otherwise, showeth 
him such obedience that he leaveth you and com- 
mitteth unto'her those duties which he should commit 
to you, and committeth naught to you, but leaveth you 
aside, what will your friends say ? And what will your 
heart feel when it perceiveth this ? And when he shall 
have transferred his pleasure there, how shall you 
withdraw it afterwards ? Certes, it will be in no wise 
in your power. 

And, for God’s sake, have a care left this ill hap come, 
that once only he take other service than yours. And 
so let his commandments, even the small ones that on 
the surface seem to you worthless or ftrange, be near 
to your heart, that you care naught for your own 
pleasures but only for his, and watch you that by your 
hand and by yourself and in your own person his 
pleasure be accomplished ; and as for him and for those 
of his affairs that concern you, let none come near or 
set hand thereto but yourself, and let your own affairs 
be committed and laid by you upon your children and 
your privy servants that be under you, and if they do 
them not, do you punish them. 

And for that I have told you to be obedient to your 

H 2 

To be Humble and Obedient 

husband that shall be, to wit more than to any other 
and above all living creatures beside, this word 
obedience shall be explained and made clear to you ; 
to wit in all matters, in all terms, in all places and in all 
seasons, you shall do and accomplish without argument 
all his commandments whatsoever. For know that 
since he is a reasonable man and of good natural sense, 
he will command nothing without due cause and will 
let you do naught that is unreasonable. Nathless 
some women there be that are fain to glose and pick 
over the reasons and sense of their husbands, and again, 
to be thought wise and masterful, they do it more 
before folk than otherwise, which is worffc of all. For 
although I am not minded to say that they ought not 
to know everything and that their husbands ought not 
to tell them everything, nathless it muft be said and 
done apart, and ought to come of the will and courtesy 
of the husband and not of the authority, maffery 
and lordship of the wife, that queffcioneth him and 
domineereth before folk. For before folk, that she 
may show her obedience and keep her honour, she 
should say no word thereof, left it should seem to 
the folk listening that the husband was wont to render 
account concerning his desires to his wife, and the wife 
ought not to wish this to be perceived, for in such case 
they show themselves miftr esses and rulers and do 
great blame to themselves and great villainy to their 

Again others there be whose husbands bid them to 
do things that seem to them small and of small value, 
and they regard not the thwarting of him from whom 
the order cometh, nor the obedience that they owe to 


The Goodman of Paris 

him, but only the value of the thing, the which 
value they judge after their own ideas and in no wise 
sometimes after the truth, for they know it not, since 
it hath not been told them. An ensample that may 
serve : A man hight Robert, that oweth me two 
hundred francs, cometh to bid me farewell and saith that 
he wendeth over the sea and saith thus to me : ‘ Sire , 
saith he, “ I owe you two hundred francs, the which I 
have delivered unto my wife who knoweth you not, 
but I have told her to deliver them to him that shall 
bring her name written in my hand and here it is . 
So much from him, and when he is gone from me, 
without telling the circum fiance, I bid my wife in 
whom I set my truft to keep it, and my aforesaid wife 
causeth another to read it, and when she perceiveth 
that it is a woman’s name, she thinketh ill and cafteth 
it on the fire, and cometh to me in wrath, saying that 
she scorns to be my bawd. There is fine obedience ! 
Item, I deliver her a ftraw, or an old nail or a pebble 
that have been delivered unto me for a witness in some 
great affairs, or a thread or a twig of wood for remem- 
brance of some important business, whereof, by forget- 
fulness or other hazard, I say naught unto my wife, 
but give her the things to keep in safety ; she regardeth 
only the value of the thread or the twig and taketh no 
other account of my orders, in despite because I did 
her not the honour and reverence of telling her the 
business at length. And such women be commonly 
rebellious, arrogant and sly, and when they have spoilt 
all in order to prove their ma fiery, they think in 
excusing themselves to make their husbands believe 
that they thought it a thing of naught, and therefore 


To be Humble and Obedient 

have not done as they were commanded, but if their 
husbands be wise they see well that it is through 
disdain and despite, because they have not done their 
wives the honour of telling them the matter at once 
and without delay, and perchance they hold the com- 
mandment for naught in their pride, nor care they at 
all for their husbands’ displeasure, provided only that 
they have occasion to excuse themselves and say : “ It 
was naught, but had it been important, I should have 
done it And for this, think they, they shall be 
excused, but they think wrong, for howbeit the husband 
saith nought at the time, nathless they lose ever the 
name of virtuous obedience, and the ftain of the 
disobedience remaineth long time afterward so deep 
in the husband’s heart, that he will remember it at 
another time, when the wife thinketh that there is 
peace and that the husband hath forgotten it. So 
let woman avoid this perilous danger and have a care of 
what the apoftle saith Ad Hebreos XIII : Obedite, etc. 

Now this article saith again that the wife ought to 
obey her husband and do all his commandments 
whatsoever, great and small and even very small ; nor 
behoveth it that your husband tell you the cause of his 
commandment, nor what moveth him, for that would 
seem a sign of your willing to do or not to do it according 
as the cause appeared good to you or otherwise, the 
which ought not to fall upon you nor upon your 
judgment, for it behoveth him alone to know it, and it 
behoveth not you to ask him, save it be afterwards, by 
your two selves alone and in private. For in doing his 
commandment you ought to show in no wise with- 
drawal, refusal, slowness or delay, and that which he 



The Goodman of Paris 

forbiddeth ought you in no wise to do, or corredt, oi 
increase, or diminish, or loosen, or take away from, in 
any way ; for in all things and everywhere, be it good or 
ill that you have done, you are quit and free when you 
say : ‘ My husband ordered me to do it Further- 
more, if ill come of your deed, then it is said of a 
wedded woman : “ She did well, for her husband bade 
her, and in so doing she did her duty And thus if 
worse befal, you shall not merely be excused but 

And concerning this, I will tell you a very piteous 
and marvellous thing, whereof I have great ruth. 1 I 
know a woman of a very great family among citizens, 
who is married to a good person and they be two good 
creatures, peaceful young people, that have fair little 
children. The wife is blamed for that she received a 
great lord into her company, but, by God, when it is 
spoken of, other men and women who know the ffcory, 
and even those who hate that sin, say that the wife 
ought no wise to be blamed, for her husband com- 
manded her. The truth is that they dwell in one of 
the greatest cities of this realm. Her husband and 
several other burgesses were imprisoned by the king by 
reason of a rebellion that the commons had made. 
Each day the heads of three or four of them were cut 
off. She and the other wives of these prisoners were 
every day before the lords, weeping and kneeling and 
beseeching them with clasped hands to have pity and 
mercy and hear them and set their husbands free. 
One of the lords that was about the king, fearing not 
God nor his justice, but even as a cruel and felon 
tyrant, sent word to this same citizeness, that if she 


To be Humble and Obedient 

would yield her to his will, he would without fail 
deliver her husband. She answered nothing to this, 
but besought the messenger for the love of God to 
bring those that kept her husband in prison to allow 
her to see and speak to him. And so it befel, for she 
was brought to her husband in prison, and all weeping 
told him what she saw or could perceive concerning the 
others, and also the prospeft of his deliverance, and the 
foul request that had been made of her. Her husband 
bade her that howsoever it was she should bring about 
his escape from death, and that she should spare neither 
her body, nor her honour, nor aught else, to save and 
rescue his life. Then parted they from each other, 
both weeping. Many of the other citizen prisoners 
were beheaded, her husband was set free. And she is 
excused in a thing so great, for that even supposing it 
were true, there is neither fault nor sin in her, nor hath 
she committed crime nor ill, for her husband bade her 
and she did it to save her husband, wisely and like a 
good woman. Nathless now leave I the matter, which 
is ill to tell and too outrageous (cursed be the tyrant 
that did it !) and return to my theme that one should 
obey one’s husband, and I will leave the great matters 
and come to little things of desport. 

In God’s name, I believe that when two good honeft 
folk be wed, all other loves be put afar off, destroyed 
andforgotten, save the love of each other ; meseemsthat 
when they are in each other’s presence they look upon 
each other more than upon others, they press each 
other, they hold each other, and they do not willingly 
speak or make sign save to each other. And when they 
be parted they think of each other, and say in their 


The Goodman of Paris 

hearts : When I see him, I shall do thus, I shall say this 
to him, I shall beseech him concerning this or that. 
And all their special pleasures, their chief desires and 
their perfect joys be to do pleasure and obedience unto 
each other, and if they love each other, they care 
naught for obedience and reverence beyond the 
common, which is too small for many. 

And in this matter of games and desport between 
husbands and wives, by God, I have heard tell by the 
bailly of Tournai 1 that he hath been in divers companies 
and dinners with men that were long time wedded, 
and with them hath made divers parties and wagers 
to pay for the dinner, on condition that all the parties 
to the wager went thence to the house of each of the 
married men, one after another, and he among them 
that should have a wife so obedient that he could, 
without warning and without fail, make her count up 
to four without flay, or contradiction, or mockery, or 
reply, should be free of the scot, and those whose wives 
should be rebellious and answer and mock or deny, 
they should pay the scot, or each a share thereof. And 
when it was thus accorded, they went forth in true 
merriment and sport to Robin’s house, who called his 
wife Marie, that was a vain woman, and said to her 
before all the husbands : “ Marie, say after me what I 
am about to say ”. “ Willingly, sire.” “ Marie, say 

one.” “ One.” “ And two.” “ And two.” “ And 
three.” . . Then quoth Marie a little proudly : 

“ And seven, and twelve and fourteen ! Come, do 
you mock me ? ” So Marie’s husband loft. After 
this, they went to Jehan’s house and he called to his 
wife Agnes, who well knew how to play the lady, and 


To be Humble and Obedient 

said to her : “ Say after me what I am about to say — 
one Then disdainfully quoth Agnes, “ And two ”. 
So he lost. Tassin said to dame Tassine, “One”. 
Tassine out of pride quoth aloud : “ Here’s something 
new ! ” or quoth she, “ I am not a child to learn how 
to count”, or she said, “ Come now, in God’s name, are 
you become a tradesman ? ” and the like. And so 
he loft ; and all those that had wedded young and well 
bred and well taught women won and were right glad. 

Look you even what God, Who is wise above all 
wisdom, did because that Adam, disobeying and 
despising God’s commandment and prohibition, ate 
the apple (and, sure, an apple was a small thing enough) 
and how wrath He was ; He was not wrath for the 
apple, but for the disobedience and the small account 
that Adam made of Him. See how He loved the 
Virgin Mary for her obedience. Look you at the 
obedience and the deeds of Abraham, who at a mere 
command did such great and dreadful things without 
asking why. Look you at Griselda, what things she 
bore and endured in her heart without demanding the 
reason thereof, though there seemed no cause nor 
colour of a cause, no profit to come and no need therefor, 
save only that dread and terrible will, and how she 
asked naught nor said one word, wherefore she won such 
praise that now, five hundred years after her death, we 
still read of her goodness. 

And the doftrine that women mu ft be obedient to 
their husbands beginneth not now. It is written in 
Genesis in the xxizth chapter that Lot and his wife 
set forth from a city and Lot forbade his wife to look 
behind her. For a while she obeyed and afterwards 


The Goodman of Paris 

she despised his commandment and looked. F orthwith 
God changed her into a pillar of salt and thus is she ftill 
and shall she be. It is the very word of the Bible and 
we mud believe it, else we be not good Christians. 
For see you, God thus assayed his friends and servants 
in full small things, as the one for an apple, the other 
for looking backward, and so it is no marvel that 
husbands, who of their bounty have set all their heart 
and all their joy and delight in their wives and have 
put all other loves behind them, should take pleasure 
in their obedience, and in loving jefts and other ways 
not harmful should assay them. 

Wherefore, returning to what is above said concern- 
ing how the husbands assayed the obedience of their 
wives, though it were but in jeft, nathless the hearts of 
those that were disobeyed and thereupon loft, were 
wounded by the mockery and the loss, and however much 
they feigned not to be, they were all shamefaft and less 
well loved they their wives, who were not humble and 
fearful and obedient to them, as they should have been 
even in so small a thing, unless there had been great 
reason against it, which they should have told their 
husbands secretly and apart. And sometimes young and 
foolish husbands be so wicked that without reason, 
because of small and trivial matters, the beginnings 
whereof be arisen out of jefts and nothings, and because 
of continual disobedience by their worthy wives, they 
amass and heap up a secret and covert wrath in their 
hearts, whereby worse cometh to both of them. And 
sometimes they beftow their embraces upon evil and 
dishoneft women who obey them in all things and 
honour them more than they be honoured of their 


To be Humble and Obedient 

worthy wives ; then those husbands cleave unto those evil 
women, who know how to keep their peace and honour 
and obey them in all things and do their pleasure. For 
doubt not, there is no husband so bad that he would not 
be obeyed and pleased by his wife, and when husbands 
find themselves better obeyed elsewhere than they were 
wont to be aforetime in their homes, then foolishly 
and neglectfully leave they their wives, that be haughty 
and disobedient, the which wives be afterwards wroth, 
when they see that in all gatherings they be not held 
in such honour as those that be accompanied by their 
husbands, or their own like fools are held so firmly by 
their hearts that they may not be drawn away. And it is 
not so easy to catch a bird that hath escaped from its 
cage as to keep it well, so that it fly not away ; so these 
women cannot bring back their husband’s hearts, when 
those husbands have sought and found better obedience 
elsewhere, and they lay upon their husbands the blame 
which truly is upon themselves. 

Dear sifter, see you that that which is said concerning 
men and women, may likewise be said concerning wild 
beafts, and not wild beasts alone, but beafts which be 
wont to ravish and devour, as bears, wolves and lions : 
for these same beasts be fed and attracted by doing 
them pleasure, and afterwards they come and follow 
those that care for them and go with them and love 
them ; and the bears be made to ride, the monkeys 
and other beafts to leap and dance and tumble and do 
all that their master wishes ; and so for this reason may 
I show you how your husband will cherish, love and 
proteCt you if you think to do his pleasure. Wherefore 
concerning what I have spoken (and I have spoken truth) 


The Goodman of Paris 

about wild beafts that be fed, etc., I say also the contrary, 
and you shall find that not only your husband, but 
your father and mother and your sifters shall grow 
Strange to you if you be fierce to them and be not 
debonnair and obedient. 

Now wot you well that your principal dwelling, 
your principal labour and love and your principal 
company is that of your husband, for whose love and 
company you be rich and honoured, and if he flee, or 
depart, or be afar from you by reason of your dis- 
obedience, or any other cause whatsoever, rightly or 
wrongly, you will remain alone and disparaged, and 
the blame thereof will be laid upon you and you will 
be held in the less honour, and if but once he have 
this evil of you, ’twill be hard for you ever to appease 
him, so that the slain of the misdeed dwell not so 
portrayed and written upon his heart, that howbeit 
he showeth and saith nought, ’twill not be wiped out 
and effaced for a long while. And if there cometh a 
second disobedience, beware of the vengeance spoken of 
in this same chapter and article at § And worse Mill, etc. 1 
Wherefore I beseech you love, serve and obey your 
husbands, even in very small and jefting matters, for 
sometimes very little things, full small and in jeSt, 
which seem of little worth because disobedience 
thereto doth little harm, be done for a trial, and by 
these it is known whether obedience or disobedience 
shall be looked for in great things ; in sooth say I that 
you should straightway obey, even in full Strange and 
wild things that your husband layeth upon you in 
je£t or in earnest. 

This matter I illustrate by a tale which saith thus : 


To be Humble and Obedient 

Three abbots and three married men were met 
together and one of them posed a question, asking 
which were the better obedient, wives to their husbands 
or monks to their abbot ; whereupon they had much 
talk and argument and ensamples told on both sides. 
Whether the ensamples were true, I know not ; but in 
the end they were ftill disagreed, and it was ordained 
that a proof should be made, loyally and secretly sworn 
between them by faith and oath, to wit that each of 
the abbots should order each of his monks that without 
the knowledge of the others he should leave his room 
open and a rod beneath his pillow, and await the 
discipline that his abbot was in mind to give him ; and 
that each of the husbands should secretly order his 
wife, when they were abed and without letting any of 
their household or any save their two selves know 
aught about it, to set and leave a broom behind the 
door of their room all night long. And within a week 
the abbots and the husbands were to meet together 
again, and they swore to carry out their trial before 
then and faithfully and loyally, without any fraud, to 
report what had befallen ; and whichever had been 
leaft well obeyed, the abbots or the husbands, should 
pay a scot of ten francs. Thus it was accorded and 
done. The report of each of the abbots was that, upon 
their souls, they had given the order to each of their 
monks, and at midnight each had visited every room 
and had found the order obeyed. Then the husbands 
told their tales, one after the other. The fir£fc said 
that before going to bed, he secretly gave the order to 
his wife, who full oft asked him what was the good 
thereof and what it was for, but he would not tell her. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Then she refused to obey and he then feigned him to 
be wrath, whereupon she promised him that she would 
do it. At eve they went to bed and dismissed their 
folk, who carried away the lights. Then he made his 
wife rise and heard well that she set up the broom. 
He was full pleased with her, and slept for a little and 
soon afterwards awoke and was aware that his wife 
slept ; then rose he softly and went to the door and 
found not the broom, and crept secretly to bed again 
and woke up his wife and asked her if the broom were 
behind the door, and she answered “ Yea He 
replied that it was not there and that he had looked. 
Then quoth she : “ By God, if I were to lose the beSt 
dress I have, I would not leave it there, for when you 
were asleep, my hair began to Stand up on my head, 
and I began to shiver and I could not have slept while 
that ’twas in the room ; so I flung it through the window 
into the road The second husband said that after 
they were abed he had made his wife rise, and full of 
displeasure and wrath, she had set the broom behind 
the door, but she had straightway clad herself again 
and gone from the room, saying that she would not 
sleep in the room where it was, and that in truth the 
devils of hell might come ; and she went all clad to 
sleep with her chambermaid. The third said that his 
wife had answered that she was not born or sprung from 
wizards and sorcerers, and that she knew not how to 
play at midnight conjuring, nor at broom Sticks, and if 
she were to die she would not do it or consent to it, 
nor ever would she Stay in the house if it were done. 

Thus the monks were obedient in a greater thing to 
their abbots, which is a marvel ; but it is natural, 


To he Humble and Obedient 

for they be men ; and the wedded women were less 
obedient in a less thing and to their own husbands, 
that should have been their special care, for ’twas their 
nature, since they were women ; and thus the husbands 
loft ten francs by them and were disappointed in their 
outrageous boafts, for they hadboafted of their wives’ 
obedience. But I beseech you, fair sifter, be not as 
these were, but be more obedient to your husband that 
shall be, both in small things and in ftrange ones, 
whether in earneft, in game, in jeft or otherwise ; for 
all are good. 

By God, a full ftrange thing saw I at Melun 1 , one 
day where the sire d’Andresel 2 was captain of the 
town ; for the English were lodged in several places 
round about and the men of Navarre were lodged 
within the caftle. And one day after dinner the said 
sire d’Andresel was at the gate, and he was bored and 
complaining that he knew not where to go and desport 
him to pass the day. A squire said to him : “ Sire, will 
you go and see a damsel dwelling in this town that 
doth all that her husband commands ? ” The sire 
d’Andresel answered him, “ Yea, let us go ”. Then 
they set forth and on the way a squire was pointed out 
to the sire d’Andresel as the damsel’s husband. The 
sire d’Andresel called him and asked him whether his 
wife would do as he ordered. And the aforesaid squire 
replied, “ By God, sir, yes, however great villainy it 
be ”, And the sire d’Andresel said to him : “ I will 
wager you a dinner that I will counsel you to make her 
do something wherein there shall be nought of villainy 
and she shall not do it The squire replied : 
“ Certes, sir, she will do it and I shall win ; and I could 


The Goodman of Paris 

win a wager with you more honourably in several other 
ways and have thereby greater honour in losing and 
paying for the dinner ; so I beseech you, do you wager 
that she will do it, and I will wager that she will not 
The sire d’Andresel said, “ I order you to wager even 
as I have said Then the squire obeyed and accepted 
the wager. The sire d’Andresel wished to be present 
together with all that were there and the squire said 
that he was full willing. Then the sire d’Andresel, 
who was holding a flick, said : “ My will is that as 
soon as we be arrived and without saying anything 
else, you bid your wife in our presence to leap over 
this flick in front of us all, and that it be done without 
frown, or grimace, or any other sign”. Thus it was 
done and they all entered the squire’s house together 
and straightway the damsel came to meet them. 
The squire set the Slick on the ground and held it there 
saying: “Madam, jump over this”. Forthwith 
she jumped. “ Jump again ” quoth he. She jumped 
again. “Jump ! ” She jumped thrice, without saying 
a single word save “ Willingly ”. The sire d’Andresel 
was aStounded and said that he had loSt and would pay 
the dinner next day in his house. And Straightway 
they all set out to go thither and when he entered the 
door of his house, the lady d’Andresel came to meet him 
and saluted him. And Straightway when the sire 
d’Andresel had dismounted, Slill holding the Stick over 
which the damsel had leapt at Melun, he set the Stick 
to the ground and thought to make the lady d’Andresel 
jump over it, the which she refused to do ; wherefore 
the sire d’Andresel was full sore enangered. And for 
the reSt I will be silent and with reason ; but this 


To be Humble and Obedient 

much I may well say, and well do I know it, that had 
she accomplished her lord’s command, that made it 
rather for a joke and a trial than for profit, she would 
the better have upheld his honour and have been the 
better prized by him for it ; but to some women good 
cometh not, and to others so doth it. 

And again on this sub j eft I can tell another full 
strange thing, how that once on a summer’s day, I was 
riding from Chaumont in Bassigny to Paris and one 
eve at vespers I ftopped to lodge in the town of 
Bar-sur-Aube. Several young men of the town that 
were wedded there and had some acquaintance with 
me, came to pray me to sup with them, as they said, 
and they said that they were in this case : there were 
several young men, but lately wedded and to young 
wives, that had been met together, without other wise 
folk with them, and they had asked concerning each 
other’s eftate and had found by each man’s speech, that 
each of them thought that his own wife was the beft 
and moft obedient in all manner of obedience, be it 
to do or not to do, in great things or small. Where- 
fore they had plotted together, as they said, to go all 
together to the house of each one of them and there 
the lord was to ask his wife for a needle, or a pin, or a 
pair of scissors, or the key of their coffer, or something 
of the sort ; and if the wife said “ What for ? ” or 
“ What are you going to do with it ? ” or “ Are you in 
earneft ? ” or “Do you mock me ? ” or “ I have none ”, 
or if she made any other reply or delay, the husband 
should pay a franc for the supper ; and if without 
argument or delay she forthwith delivered her husband 
that for which he asked, the husband should be held 


The Goodman of Paris 

happy in possessing so wise and obedient a wife, and 
wise in maintaining and keeping her in the same obedi- 
ence, and he should be seated at the head of the table 
and should pay nought. 

And albeit there be some women that cannot and 
deign not to submit to such small and strange things, but 
disdain and despise them, and all that thus behave, 
nathless, fair sister, you may wot well that it is needful for 
human nature to take pleasure in something ; even the 
poor, the impotent, the sick or languid and those that 
be upon their deathbed take and seek pleasure and joy, 
and for more reason still those that be in health. All 
the delight of some is in hunting or hawking, of others 
in playing upon instruments, of others in swimming, or 
dancing, or singing, or jousting ; even you seek your 
own diversely in divers ways ; so, if your husband 
imagine that he would fain take pleasure in your 
service or obedience, as above, serve him and bear with 
him, and know that God will give you this great grace 
that your husband will take greater pleasure in you 
than in any other thing ; for if you be the key to his 
pleasure, he will serve you and follow you and love you 
therefore, and if he has pleasure in something else he 
will follow it and you will be set aside. So I counsel 
and admonish you to do his pleasure in full small 
things and full Grange ones and in all, and if thus you 
do, his children and you yourself shall be his minstrels 
and his joys and pleasures, and he will not seek his joys 
elsewhere, and it shall be a great good and a great 
peace and honour for you. 

And if it befal that there be some business which 
your husband remembered not when he left you and 



[ face p. 158 

To be Humble and Obedient 

therefore spake not to you, nor bade or forbade you 
concerning it, nathless you should do according to his 
pleasure, whatsoever pleasure you might have to do 
otherwise, and you should set aside your pleasure and 
put it behind you, and ever set his pleasure firffc. But 
if the business be important and such that you may 
have time to make it known unto him, write to him 
that you believe it would be his will to do thus, etc , 
and therefore you wish to do his pleasure, but because 
that such and such an inconvenience may come of 
doing it, and such and such a loss and damage likewise, 
it seemeth to you better and more honourable to do 
thus and thus, etc., the which thing you dare not do 
without his leave, may it please him to send you his 
wishes thereupon and you will carry out his orders 
with a ready heart and with all your power, etc. 

All women do not so, wherefore evil cometh to them 
in the end, and when they be less valued and see the 
good and obedient wives that be well honoured, 
companioned and loved by their husbands, these 
wicked ones that be not so are at war with fate and 
say that fate hath o’erridden them thus, and the 
wickedness of their husbands that in no wise set their 
truft in them ; but they lie, fate hath not done it ; 
their own disobedience and disrespect towards their 
husbands hath done it, for after these husbands have 
often times failed towards their wives, that have 
disobeyed them and shown them no respedt, they 
dare no longer truft in them and so they have sought 
and found obedience, wherein they set their truft, 

And I remember, by God, that I saw one of your 

x 59 

The Goodman of Paris 

cousins, that loveth well you and me, and so doth her 
husband, and she came to me, saying “ Cousin ” quoth 
she, u We have such and such an affair to do, and 
meseems it would be well done thus and thus, and 
’twould please me so. What think you ? ” And I 
said to her : “ The first thing is to know your husband’s 
ad-vice and pleasure ; have you not spoken to him ? ” 
And she answered me : “ By God, cousin, nay ; for by 
divers ways and Strange words I felt that he was in 
mind to do so and so, and not as I have said. And you 
know, cousin, that it is less blame to do a thing without 
one’s lord’s leave than after he hath forbidden it, and 
sure am I that he will forbid me and I know well that 
he loves you and holds you for a good man, and if I 
did as I say by your advice, whatsoever came thereof, 
if I excused myself by your advice, he would be easily 
appeased, so much doth he love you And I said to 
her : “ Since he loves me, I mu ft love him and do his 
pleasure, wherefore I counsel you to adt according to 
his pleasure and set your own aside And naught 
else might she have of me and she departed full wroth 
for that I did not help her to do her will, that was all 
again ft the will of her husband ; and she cared not for 
her husband’s wrath, for she would have been able 
to say, £< You bade me not otherwise to do, etc., your 
cousin counselled me to do this Now see you her 
mind, and how anxious the woman is to do great 
pleasure to her husband and what obedience she giveth 
him ! 

Bear sifter, other women there be that when they 
desire to do a thing in one way, but such a one 
suspedteth that her husband would not have it thus, 


To be Humble and Obedient 

she resisleth not nor reiteth, but fretteth and fumeth, 
and when she perceiveth that she and her husband be 
alone and talking of their business, affairs and pleasures, 
the woman by certain words that be close to a certain 
matter, subtly enquireth and feeleth, concerning this 
business, that her husband is in mind to do and follow 
another way than she wisheth ; then doth the woman 
lead her husband to speak of other things, that he may 
not say openly concerning this one : “ In this matter 
do thus ” ; and quietly she passeth it over and setteth 
her husband upon other talk and they end upon a 
business far from that matter. And as soon as this 
woman knoweth her position, then causeth she the 
firH matter to be done according to her pleasure, nor 
careth she for her husband’s pleasure, which she setteth 
at nought and thinketh to excuse herself by saying : 
“ You said naught to me about it ”, for she careth not 
for the wrath and displeasure of her husband, but only 
that her own be assuaged and her will done. And 
meseems that it is ill done thus to trick and deceive and 
try one’s husband ; but many there be that make 
such trials and many others, which is ill done, for a 
woman ought ever to seek to do her husband’s pleasure 
when it is wise and reasonable ; and when she tries her 
husband, covertly and quietly, under Hrange and 
malicious concealments, if it be the better to manage 
him, that is ill done, for with one’s husband ought one 
never to a£t by guile or malice, but openly and 
roundly, heart to heart. 

And worse Hill is it when the woman hath a husband 
that is anhoneH man and debonnair, and sheleaveth him, 
in the hope of having pardon and excuse for ill-doing, 



The Goodman of Paris 

as it is written in the book oi the Seven Sages of Rome 1 
that there was in the city a wise widower, of great age 
and full rich in lands and of good renown, that had been 
wedded to two wives that were dead. His friends 
counselled him to take another wife and he answered 
that they should find him one and that he would gladly 
wed her. They found him one that was fair and young 
and ready of her body, for never shall you see man so 
old that he doth not willingly take a young wife. He 
married her and the lady was with him for a year 
without his once doing that which you wot of. Now 
this lady had a mother ; one day she was at church 
with her mother, and whispered unto her that she had 
no solace of her lord and therefore she was in mind to 
love. “ Daughter ” said the mother, “ If thou do so, 
he will hold thee in great despite, for certes there is 
no revenge so great as that of an old man, wherefore 
believe me and do it not, for never wilt thou be able 
to appease thy husband.” The daughter replied 
that she would do it. Then quoth the mother, “ Since 
otherwise it may not be, I would thou should ft make 
trial of thy husband firft ”. “ Willingly ”, replied the 

daughter, “ I will make trial of him thus. He hath a 
fruit tree grafted in his garden, which is full fair and 
which he loveth more than all his other trees. I will 
cut it down, and so shall I see if I may appease him 
easily.” Thus they were accorded and forthwith left 
the church. 

The young dame returned to her house and found 
that her lord was gone to desport him in the fields. 
Then took she an axe, and began to strike to right and to 
left, until she felled the tree, and had it cut up by a varlet, 


To be Humble and Obedient 

and carried to the fire. And at the moment that this 
man was bringing it, the lord entered his house and 
saw him bringing the logs of the fruit tree in his hand ; 
and the lord asked, “ Whence cometh this firewood ? ” 
The lady answered : “ I came of late from the church 
and they told me that you were gone into the fields, 
and I feared, for that it had rained, lest you should 
return wet and take cold, wherefore went I into the 
orchard and cut down this fruit tree, for there was no 
firewood in the house “ Lady ” said the lord, “ It is 
my good fruit tree ! ” “ Certes, sire,” quoth the lady, 

“ I know not.” The lord went forth into his orchard 
and he was full wroth, albeit he showed no sign thereof, 
but returned and found the lady making the fire with 
the fruit tree, as though she did it in good will to warm 
him. When the lord was come, he spake thus to her : 
“ Now, dame, it is my good fruit tree that you have 
cut down ! ” “ Sire ”, quoth the lady, “ I marked it 

not, for certes I did it because I knew well that you 
would come in all wet and damp with the rain, and 
I feared left you should be cold and take harm thereby.” 
“ Dame ” said the lord, “ I will let it be, since you say 
that you did it for my sake.” 

The next day the lady returned to the church and 
found her mother and said to her : “ I made trial of 
my lord and cut down the fruit tree, but he showed 
me no sign that he was very wroth, and therefore, wot 
you, mother, that I shall love ”. “ Do it not, fair 

daughter ” quoth the mother, “ Let it be.” 
“ Certes ”, quoth the daughter, “ I will do it : no longer 
can I restrain myself.” “ Fair daughter ” saith the 
mother, “ If it be even as thou sayeft and thou can ft not 


The Goodman of Paris 

retrain thyself, then make trial once again of thy 
husband.” Quoth the daughter, “ Willingly, I will 
make trial of him again thus. He hath a greyhound 
that he loveth marvellously well; he would take no 
money for it, so good it is, and he will suffer none of his 
varlets to drive it from the fire and none to give it to 
eat save himself only. I will slay it before him ”. 

Then they parted. The daughter returned to her 
house ; it was late and cold, the fire was fair and bright 
and the beds were well arrayed and covered with fair 
counterpanes and rugs, and the lady was clad in a new 
pelisse. The lord came from the fields. The lady rose 
to meet him ; she took off his cloak and then would 
have unbuckled his spurs, but the lord would not suffer 
her and bade one of his varlets take them off. Much 
show did the lady make of serving him ; she ran and 
brought in a new lined mantle and set it on his shoulders 
and arranged an armchair and set a cushion thereon, 
and made him sit by the fire, and bespake him thus : 
“ Sire, certainly you are all pale with cold, warm your- 
self and be well at your ease ”. When she had spoken 
thus, she sat down close to him and lower than he, 
upon a footstool, and spread out the skirt of her pelisse, 
looking ever upon her husband. When the greyhound 
saw the fine fire, it came by mischance and lay down 
upon the edge of the lady’s dress, and the lady saw 
close to her a varlet with a big knife, and snatched it 
and ran it through the body of the aforesaid grey- 
hound, which began then to beat with its paws and 
died in front of the husband. “ Dame ”, quoth he 
“ How are you so bold as to slay in mine own presence 
my leveret that I loved so well ? ” “ Sire ” said the 


To be Humble and Obedient 

lady, “ See you not every day how we be troubled ? 
There are no two days that we have not to clean up 
here after your dogs. And now look at my pelisse 
that I had never worn before, see how it is spoilt ! 
Did you think that I should not be wroth ? ” The 
wise old man answered : “ By God, it is ill done, and 
I take it full ill of you, but now I will speak of it no 
more The lady said : “ Sire, you may do your 
will with me, for I am yours, and wot well that I am 
sorry for what I have done, for I know well that you 
loved it dearly ; I am in grief for that I have angered 
you When she had spoken thus she made great 
show of weeping. When the lord saw this, he let it 

The next day she went to the church and found her 
mother and told her all that had befallen and how in 
good sooth, since all had befallen so well and she had so 
well escaped, she would fain love. “ Ha, fair daughter ”, 
quoth the mother, “ Do not so, thou mayft well 
forbear ! ” “ Certes, lady, I will not.” Then said 

the mother : “Fair daughter, all my life I bore me well 
unto thy father, and never did such folly nor desired 
to ”. “ Ha, lady ” replied the daughter, “ ’Tis not 

with me as with you, for you and my father came 
together as young folk, and you had your pleasures 
together, but I have no pleasure nor solace of mine ; so 
behoveth me to procure it.” “ Now, fair daughter, if 
love you mu ft, whom wilt thou love?” “Mother” 
quoth the daughter, “ I will love the chaplain of this 
town, for priests and monks feared to be shamed and 
are more secret. Never would I love a knight, for they 
would soon boa ft and brag about me and ask of me my 


The Goodman of Paris 

jewels to pledge them.” “Now, fair daughter, do 
once more as I counsel, and again make trial of thy 
lord.” Quoth the daughter, “ Try so much and so 
much and again and again, there will be no end of 
this ! ” “ By my head ” said the mother, “ thou 

shalt try him once more, by my advice, for never 
shalt thou see vengeance so foul nor so cruel as an old 
man’s vengeance.” “ Well, lady ” said the daughter, 
“ I will willingly do your behest yet once again and I 
will try him thus : Thursday will be Christmas Day 
and my lord will hold a great feaft for his kinsmen and 
other friends, for all the vavasours of this town will 
be there and I shall be seated at the head of the table 
in a chair ; and as soon as the fir£t course is served, I 
shall entangle my keys in the fringe of the cloth, and 
when this is done, I shall rise of a sudden and drag 
everything after me, and I shall scatter and spill all 
that is on the table ; and then I will calm all once more. 
Thus shall I have tried my lord thrice by three great 
trials and lightly appeased him again, and by this you 
shall wot well that thus lightly I shall appease him 
concerning more dark and hidden things, that he can 
speak of only in suspicion.” “Well, fair daughter”, 
said the mother, “ God grant thou do well.” 

Then they parted ; each went to her house. The 
daughter cared for her husband cordially, in all 
semblance, and full eagerly and well and full fairly, 
until Chri&mas Day came. The vavasours of Rome 
and the damsels thereof were come, the tables were 
arrayed and the cloths laid, and all sat down ; and the 
lady played the miftress and housewife, and sat at the 
head of the table in a chair, and the servants brought 


To be Humble and Obedient 

in the first meats and brewets and set them on the 
table. And when the trencher men had begun to 
carve, the lady entangled her keys in the fringes at the 
edge of the tablecloth, and when she perceived that 
they were well entangled, she rose suddenly and took 
a long Step backward, as though she had daggered as 
she rose ; and she dragged at the cloth, and bowls full 
of brewet, hanaps full of wine and sauces were spilt 
and all that was on the table was upset. When the 
lord saw this he was shamed and full wroth and be- 
thought him of the things that had happened before. 
At once the lady drew out her keys that were entangled 
in the cloth. “ Dame ”, said the lord, “ You have 
done ill ! ” “ Sire ” quoth the lady, “ I could not 

help it. I was going to seek your carving knives that 
were not on the table and I was troubled.” “ Dame ” 
said the lord, “ Now fetch us other cloths ! ” The 
lady bade fetch other cloths, and other dishes were 
brought in again. They ate merrily and the lord 
showed no sign of wrath nor anger, and when they had 
eaten enough and the lord had shown them great 
honour, they departed thence. 

The lord suffered the night to pass until the next 
day was come. Then quoth he : “ Dame, you have 
thrice displeased me and made me full wroth, and you 
shall not do it a third time, if I can help it ; and I know 
well that it is bad blood that hath made you so to do ; 
it behoveth to bleed you”. He sent for the barber 
and had the fire made ready. The lady said to him : 
“ Sire, what would you do ? Never have I been bled ”. 
“ So much the worse ” quoth the lord, “ it behoveth 
you now to begin ; these three evil tricks that you have 


The Goodman of Paris 

played upon me, you have played by reason of bad 

Then he bade her right arm to be warmed at the fire 
and when it was warmed, he bade bleed her ; and she 
was bled until the thick red blood came forth . 1 Then 
the lord bade launch her, and then bade her draw her 
other arm from out her dress. The lady began to cry 
mercy. Nought availed it, for he had the second arm 
warmed and bled, and they took so much that she 
swooned and loft all speech and became in hue as one 
dead, and when the lord saw this, he caused her to be 
launched and carried to her bed in her room. When 
she came out of her swoon then began she to cry and 
weep and sent for her mother, who came forthwith ; 
and when she came into her presence, all went from the 
room and left these two alone together. When the 
lady saw her mother she said to her : “ Ha ! mother, I 
am dead ; my lord hath bled me so hard that I trow 
well that never shall I enjoy my body ”. “ Now, 

daughter, well I wift that bad blood was consuming 
thee ; now tell me, my child, doff thou ftill desire to 
love ? ” “ Certes, lady, nay.” “ Daughter did I 

not in troth tell thee that never should ft thou see 
vengeance so cruel as that of an old man ? ” “ Lady, 

yea ; but, for the love of God, help me to recover and 
be restored to health, and by my soul, mother, never 
will I love.” “ Fair daughter ” quoth the mother, 
“ thou wilt do wisely. Thy lord is a good worthy man 
and wise, love him and serve him, and wot that naught 
but good and honour shall come thereby.” “ Certes, 
mother, well know I now that you gave me and give 
good counsel, and I will henceforth believe it and 


To be Humble and Obedient 

honour my husband and never try him nor anger 

Dear sifter, this will suffice concerning this matter. 
For in this matter of obedience we have heretofore 
spoken and what is to be done if the husband order 
small things in jeft, in earneft, or otherwise, and then 
of what is to be done when the husband has bidden or 
forbidden naught, because he has not bethought him 
thereof, and thirdly of the long way that women will 
go to accomplish their own will beyond and above the 
will of their husbands. And now at the la ft let us say 
that they should not do what their husbands forbid, 
in small things or great, for so to do is to aft ill. And 
begin with small matters, in which obedience should 
juft as well be shown ; I prove it even by the judgments 
of God, for you know, dear sifter, how that by the 
disobedience of Adam, who again ft the command of 
God ate an apple the which is a small thing, all the 
world was caft into servitude. . . . 

But some women there be, that think too slyly to 
escape, for when their husband hath forbidden them 
to do something that it liketh them to do and they be 
full fain to do, they delay and wait and let time go by 
until that the husband forget that he hath forbidden it, 
or until he be gone away, or until he be so busy with 
other and weighty matters that he remembereth not. 
And thereupon, straightway, at once and haftily, 
the woman doth the thing according to her pleasure 
and again ft the will and command of her lord, or causeth 
it to be done by her people, saying : “ Do it boldly ! 
My lord will not notice it, he will know naught about 
it ”. Now see you that this woman, in her headftrong 


The Goodman of Paris 

will, is in truth a rebel and disobedient, and her malice 
and wickedness, that naught can withstand, make her 
case the worse and show clearly her evil mind. And 
wot that there is naught that will not be made known in 
the end and when the husband shall see it and shall 
perceive that she separateth their united wills, that 
should be one, as is aforesaid, that husband will 
peradventure be silent, as was the wise man of Rome, 
of whom it is written before in this article ; but his 
heart will be so deeply wounded thereby, that never 
will it heal, but every time that he remembereth it, 
new sorrow will spring thereof. 

So I beseech you, dear sifter, that you watch and 
beware very specially again ft making such trials and 
attempts upon another husband than I, if you have 
one, but let your mind and his be one, as you and I are 
at present ; and that will suffice for this article. 

The Seventh Article 

The seventh article of the fir si: section showeth how 
you should be careful and thoughtful of your husband’s 
person. Wherefore, fair sifter, if you have another 
husband after me, know that you should think much of 
his person, for after that a woman has loft her firft 
husband and marriage, she commonly findeth it hard 
to find a second to her liking, according to her eftate, 
and she remaineth long while all lonely and disconsolate 
and the more so ftill if she lose the second. Wherefore 
love your husband’s person carefully, and I pray you 
keep him in clean linen, for that is your business, and 
because the trouble and care of outside affairs 
lieth with men, so mu ft husbands take heed, and go 
and come, and journey hither and thither, in rain and 
wind, in snow and hail, now drenched, now dry, now 
sweating, now shivering, ill-fed, ill-lodged, ill-warmed 
and ill-bedded. And naught harmeth him, because 
he is upheld by the hope that he hath of the care which 
his wife will take of him on his return, and of the ease, 
the joys and the pleasures which she will do him, or 
cause to be done to him in her presence ; to be unshod 
before a good fire, to have his feet washed and fresh 
shoes and hose, to be given good food and drink, to be 
well served and well looked after, well bedded in white 
sheets and nightcaps, well covered with good furs, 
and assuaged with other joys and desports, privities, 


The Goodman of Paris 

loves and secrets whereof I am silent. And the next 
da y fresh shirts and garments. 

Certes, fair sister, such services make a man love and 
desire to return to his home and to see his goodwife, 
and to be diftant with others. Wherefore I counsel 
you to make such cheer to your husband at all his 
comings and Mayings, and to persevere therein ; and 
also be peaceable with him, and remember the ruftic 
proverb, which saith that there be three things which 
drive the goodman from home, to wit a leaking roof, 
a smoky chimney and a scolding woman . 1 And there- 
fore, fair sifter, I beseech you that, to keep yourself in 
the love and good favour of your husband, you be unto 
him gentle, and amiable, and debonnair. Do unto 
him what the good simple women of our country say 
hath been done to their sons, when these have set their 
love elsewhere and their mothers cannot wean them 
therefrom. Sure it is that when fathers and mothers 
be dead and ftepfathers and ftepmothers that have 
ftepsons rail at them and scold them and repulse them 
and take no thought for their sleeping, nor for their 
food and drink, their hose and their shirts, nor for their 
other needs or affairs, and these same children find 
elsewhere a good refuge and counsel from some other 
woman, that receiveth them unto herself and taketh 
thought to warm them by some poor gruel with her, 
to give them a bed and keep them clean and mend their 
hosen, breeches, shirts and other clothes, then do these 
same children follow her and desire to be with her and 
to sleep and be warmed between her breafts, and they 
be altogether eftranged from their mothers and fathers, 
that before took no heed of them, and now be fain to 


To be Careful and Thoughtful 

get them back and have them again ; but it may not be, 
for these children hold more dear the company of 
strangers that think and care for them, than of their 
kinsfolk that care no whit for them. Then they lament 
and cry and say that these same women have bewitched 
their children and that the lads be spell bound and 
cannot leave them and are never at ease save when they 
are with them. But, whatever they may say, it is no 
witchcraft, but it is for the sake of the love, the care, the 
intimacies, joys and pleasures that these women show 
unto them in all things and, on my soul, there is none 
other enchantment. For whoever giveth all its 
pleasure to a bear, a wolf, or a lion, that same bear, 
wolf, or lion will follow after him, and so the other 
beafts might say, could they but speak, that those thus 
tamed muil be bewitched. And, on my soul, I trow 
that there is none other witchcraft than well doing, 
and no man can be better bewitched than by giving him 
what pleaseth him. 

Wherefore, dear sifter, I beseech you thus to bewitch 
and bewitch again your husband that shall be, and 
beware of roofless house and of smoky fire, and scold 
him not, but be unto him gentle and amiable and 
peaceable. Have a care that in winter he have a good 
fire and smokeless and let him reft well and be well 
covered between your breafts, and thus bewitch him. 
And in summer take heed that there be no fleas in your 
chamber, nor in your bed, the which you may do in 
six ways, as I have heard tell. For I have heard from 
several that if the room be ftrewn with alder leaves, 
the fleas will be caught thereon. Item I have heard 
tell that if you have at night one or two trenchers [of 


The Goodman of Paris 

bread] slimed with glue or turpentine and set about the 
room, with a lighted candle in the midst of each 
trencher, they will come and be ftuck thereto. The 
other way that I have tried and ’tis true : take a rough 
cloth and spread it about your room and over your 
bed, and all the fleas that shall hop thereon will be 
caught, so that you may carry them away with the 
cloth wheresoe’er you will. Item, sheepskins. Item, 
I have seen blanchets [of white wool] 1 set on the ftraw 
and on the bed, and when the black fleas hopped there- 
on, they were the sooner found upon the white, and 
killed. But the bedfc way is to guard oneself against 
those that be within the coverlets and the furs, and the 
£luff of the dresses wherewith one is covered. For 
know that I have tried this, and when the coverlets, 
furs or dresses, wherein there be fleas, be folded and 
shut tightly up, as in a cheft tightly corded with straps, 
or in a bag well tied up and pressed, or otherwise put 
and pressed so that the aforesaid fleas be without light 
and air and kept imprisoned, then will they perish 
forthwith and die. Item I have sometimes seen in 
divers chambers, that when one had gone to bed they 
were full of mosquitoes, which at the smoke of the 
breath came to sit on the faces of those that slept, and 
£hmg them so hard, that they were fain to get up and 
light a fire of hay, in order to make a smoke so that 
they had to fly away or die, and this may be done 
by day if they be suspedted, and likewise he that hath 
a mosquito net may protedf himself therewith. 

And if you have a chamber or a passage where there 
is great resort of flies, take little sprigs of fern and tie 
them to threads like to tassels, and hang them up and 


To be Careful and Thoughtful 

all the flies will settle on them at eventide ; then take 
down the tassels and throw them out. Item, shut up 
your chamber closely in the evening, but let there be a 
little opening in the wall towards the ea£l, and as soon 
as the dawn breaketh, all the flies will go forth through 
this opening, and then let it be Slopped up. Item, 
take a bowl of milk and a hare’s gall and mix them 
one with another and then set two or three bowls 
thereof in places where the flies gather and all that 
tafle thereof will die. Item, otherwise, have a linen 
rag tied at the bottom of a pot with an opening in the 
neck, and set that pot in the place where the flies 
gather and smear it within with honey, or apples, or 
pears ; when it is full of flies, set a trencher over the 
mouth and then shake it. Item, otherwise, take raw 
red onions and bray them and pour the juice into a 
bowl and set it where the flies gather and all that tafte 
thereof will die. Item, have whisks 1 wherewith to slay 
them by hand. Item, have little twigs covered with 
glue on a basin of water. Item, have your windows 
shut full tight with oiled or other cloth, or with parch- 
ment or something else, so tightly that no fly may 
enter, and let the flies that be within be slain with the 
whisk or otherwise as above, and no others will come 
in. Item, have a string hanging soaked in honey, and 
the flies will come and settle thereon and at eventide 
let them be taken in a bag. Finally meseemeth that 
flies will not flop in a room wherein there be no land- 
ing tables, forms, dressers or other things whereon they 
can settle and reft, for if they have naught but straight 
walls whereon to settle and cling, they will not settle, 
nor will they in a shady or damp place. Wherefore 


The Goodman of Paris 

meseemeth that if the room be well watered and well 
closed and shut up, and if nought be left lying on the 
floor, no fly will settle there. 

And thus shall you preserve and keep your husband 
from all discomforts and give him all the comforts 
whereof you can bethink you, and serve him and have 
him served in your house, and you shall look to him for 
outside things, for if he be good he will take even more 
pains and labour therein than you wish, and by doing 
what I have said, you will cause him ever to miss you 
and have his heart with you and your loving service 
and he will shun all other houses, all other women, all 
other services and households. All will be as naught to 
him save you, who think for him as is aforesaid, and 
who ought so to do, by the ensample that you see of 
horsemen riding abroad, for you see that as soon as 
they be come home to their house from a journey, they 
cause their horses to be given fresh litter up to their 
bellies ; these horses be unharnessed and made com- 
fortable, they be given honey and picked hay and sifted 
oats, and they be better looked after in their own 
tables on their return than anywhere else. And if the 
horses be thus made comfortable, so much the more 
ought the persons, to wit the lords, to be so at their 
own expense on their return. Hounds returning from 
the woods and from the chase be littered before their 
master and he maketh their fresh litter himself before 
the fire ; their feet be greased at the fire with soft 
grease, they be given sops and be well eased, for pity 
of their labour ; and likewise, if women do thus unto 
their husbands, as men do unto their horses, dogs, asses, 
mules, and other beafts, certes all other houses, where 


To be Careful and Thoughtful 

they have been served, will seem to them but dark 
prisons and Strange places, compared with their own, 
which will be then a paradise of rest unto them. And 
so on the road husbands will think of their wives, and 
no trouble will be a burden to them for the hope and 
love they will have of their wives, whom they will be 
fain to see again with as great longing as poor hermits 
and penitents are fain to see the face of Jesus Christ; 
and these husbands, that be thus looked after, will 
never be fain to abide elsewhere nor in other company, 
but they will withhold, withdraw and ab Slain there- 
from ; all the reft will seem unto them but a bed of 
ftones compared with their home ; but let it be 
unceasing, and with a good heart and without pretence. 

But there be certain old hags, which be sly and play 
the wise woman and feign great love by way of showing 
their heart’s great service, and naught else ; and wot 
you, fair sifter, that the husbands be fools if they 
perceive it not ; and when they perceive it, if the 
husband and wife be silent and pretend one with 
another, it is an ill beginning and will lead to a 
worse end. And some women there be, that in the 
beginning serve their husbands full well, and they 
trow well that their husbands be then so amorous of 
them and so debonnair that, trow they, those husbands 
will scarce dare to be wroth with them, if they do less, 
so they slacken and little by little they try to show less 
respeft and service and obedience, but — what is more — 
they take upon themselves authority, command and 
lordship, at firft in a small thing, then in a larger, and 
a little more every day. Thus they essay and advance 
and rise, as they think, and they trow that their 



The Goodman of Paris 

husbands, the which because they be debonnair or 
peradventure because they set a trap, say nought 
thereof, see it not because they suffer it thus. And 
certes, it is an ill thought and deed, for when the 
husbands see that they cease their service, and mount 
unto domination, and that they do it too much and 
that by suffering ill good may come, then those women 
be all at once, by their husband’s rightful will, caff 
down even as Lucifer was, that was the chief of the 
angels of Paradise, and that our Lord so loved that He 
allowed and suffered him to do his will, and he grew 
puffed up with overweening pride. He did and under- 
took so much that he went too far, and displeased our 
Lord that long had dissimulated and suffered him with- 
out a word, and then all at once He bethought him of 
all. So He caff him forth into the nethermoff depths 
of hell, because that he continued not the service 
whereunto he was ordained and for the which he had 
in the beginning won the full great love of our Lord. 
Wherefore you should be obedient in the beginning 
and ever persevere therein, by this ensample. 

The Eighth Article 

The eighth article of the first sedition saith that you 
should be silent or at least temperate in speech and 
wise to keep and to hide your husband’s secrets. Upon 
which, fair sifter, wot you that he that groweth hot in 
speech is not temperate of mind, and know that it is a 
sovereign virtue to know how to set a rein to the tongue 
and many dangers be come of too much talk, and 
especially if it be with arrogant or hot-headed folk or 
courtiers. And do you above all take heed that you 
hold not speech with such people, and if perchance 
they should speak to you, do you make an end and leave 
them wisely and courteously and it shall be a sovereign 
good sense in you, and know that to do thus is verily 
necessary ; and though it befall that your heart be hot 
within you, yet mu ft you sometimes mafter it, and no 
man is wise who cannot do so ; for there is a ruftic 
proverb that saith how that none is worthy to have 
rule or lorship over any other who cannot rule himself. 

Wherefore in this matter and in all others, you should 
so be mafter of your heart and tongue that they may be 
sub j eft to your head, and take good heed before whom 
and to whom you shall speak ; and I pray and charge 
you that, whether in company or at table, you do take 
heed that you speak not too much, for from too many 
words ill muft needs sometimes arise, and sometimes 
there be joking words spoken in desport and in jeft. 


The Goodman of Paris 

which be afterwards remembered to the great scorn 
and mockery of those that have spoken. Wherefore 
take heed before whom and concerning what you speak 
and in what manner, and do you say what you have to 
say simply and to the point, and in speaking take 
thought that nothing cometh from your lips that 
ought not to come forth and that a bridle be in your 
mouth to keep you from too much speech. And be a 
good keeper of secrets and take heed ever to guard the 
secrets of your husband that shall be ; fir£t his misdeeds, 
vices or sins, if you know of any, do you conceal and 
cover them, even without his knowledge, that he be 
not shamed ; for hardly ever will you find any man that 
hath a friend who perceiveth his sin, but henceforth he 
will look upon his friend less lovingly than before and 
will be shamed before him and hold him in fear. 
And likewise I counsel you that you never reveal those 
things which your husband saith unto you in discussion, 
to any person however privy with you, and in this you 
shall conquer your woman’s nature, which is'such (so it 
is said) that they — to wit the bad and wicked ones — 
can hide nothing. Concerning which a philosopher 
called Macrobius tells in the book of Scipio’s Dream 
how that there was in Rome a child, a young boy, 
hight Papirius, who went one day with his father that 
was a senator of Rome into the hall of the senators, in 
which room the Roman senators held counsel together. 
And there they made oath that none should be bold 
to reveal their counsel on pain of losing his head. And 
when they had held counsel and the child returned 
home, his mother asked him whence he came and he 
replied that he had been at the meeting of the Senate 


To be Discreet 

with, his father. His mother asked him what had there 
passed, and he answered that he dared not say, on pain 
of death. Then had the mother full great longing to 
know, and she began first to flatter and then to 
threaten her son, that he should tell her. And when 
the child perceived that he could not withstand his 
mother, he bade her fir ft to promise that she should 
tell it to no man, and she promised him. Then he told 
her this lie, to wit that the senators had taken counsel 
together whether a husband should have two wives 
or a wife two husbands. When the mother heard this, 
she forbade him to tell it to any other, and then sped 
she to her gossips and told them the counsel in secret, 
and each told it to another, until at la ft they all knew 
the matter, each as her own secret. 

So it befel in a short while that all the women of 
Rome came to the senate house, where the senators 
were assembled together, and cried oftentimes and full 
loudly that rather would they that a woman should have 
two husbands than a man two wives. The senators 
were all aftonied and knew not what might be the 
meaning thereof, and looked at one another, asking 
whence it had arisen, until the child Papirius told them, 
the ffcory. And when the senators heard it, they were 
full of wrath and they made him a senator and 
ruled that nevermore should a child be of their 

Thus appeareth it by this ensample that the boy 
child that was young knew how to hide and be silent 
and evaded, and the woman that was of meet age to 
have sense and discretion knew not how to be silent 
and conceal that which she had sworn and promised on 


The Goodman of Paris 

her oath to hide, albeit a secret which touched the 
honour of her husband and her son. 

And again the worft of it is that when women tell 
a thing one to the other, always the la ft addeth a little 
more and increaseth the falsehood and setteth some- 
what of her own thereto, and the next ftill more. 
And concerning this there is a country tale of a good 
woman that was accuftomed to rise early. One morn- 
ing she rose not as early as was her wont, and her gossip 
feared left she were ill, and went to her bedside and 
asked her ofttimes how she did. The good woman 
was shamed that she had sported long with her husband 
and knew not what to say save that she was very heavy 
and ill, and in such plight that she might not tell it. 
The gossip besought and prayed her for love of her to 
say, and swore, promised and bound herself never to 
reveal what she heard for anything in the world, to 
any living creature, father, mother, sifter, brother, 
husband, confessor and any other. After the which 
promise and oath the good woman knew not what to 
say, and at laft told her that she had laid an egg. The 
gossip was full aftonied and feigned her to be in great 
agitation and swore more loudly than ever that not a 
word thereof should be revealed. 

Shortly afterwards this gossip departed and on her 
way home she met another gossip who asked her whence 
she came and forthwith she answered that she had been 
to see a good woman that was ill and had laid two eggs, 
and prayed her to keep it secret and the other promised. 
The other met another and told her eight eggs, and so 
the number grew ever more and more. The good 
woman rose and learned that all through the town folk 


To be Discreet 

were saying that she had laid a whole basket full of 
eggs. Thus she perceived how that women be ill 
keepers of secrets, and what is worse make all things 
worse in the telling. 

Wherefore, fair sister, know you to keep your secrets 
from everyone, save only your husband, and you shall 
show good sense thereby, for think not that another 
person shall hide for you that which you yourself have 
not been able to keep ; wherefore be secret and 
discreet to all save to your husband, for from him 
ought you to conceal naught, but tell all to him, and 
he likewise to you. And it is said Ad Epbesios V* : 
Sic viri debent diligere uxores scilicet ut corpora sua. 
Ideo ibidem dicitur : Viri diligite uxores veHras ; et 
XJnusquisque uxorem suam diligat sicut se ipsum , that is 
to wit, a man should love his wife as his own body, and 
therefore you two, to wit man and wife, should be as 
one, and everywhere and in all things take counsel 
one with the other, and so do and should do all good 
and wise folk. And I would well that the husbands 
know they ought likewise to hide and cover the foolish 
deeds done by their wives, and gently guard againft 
their foolish deeds to come. And thus was a good 
worthy man of Venice fain to do. 

At Venice there was a wedded pair that had three 
children in marriage. Afterwards the woman lay upon 
her deathbed and confessed, among other things, that 
one of the children was not her husband’s. The 
confessor at the end said to her that he would advise 
him what counsel to give her and would return to her. 
T his confessor went then to the physician that tended 
her and asked the ftate of her illness and the physician 


The Goodman of Paris 

said that she could not recover. Then came the 
confessor to her and told her how that he had con- 
sidered her case and that he saw not how God might 
give her salvation, save if she sought pardon from her 
husband for the wrong which she had done him. She 
bade seek her husband, and caused the room to be 
cleared of all save her mother and her confessor, who 
set her and supported her upon her knees in the bed, 
and with hands clasped before her husband, she humbly- 
besought his mercy for that she had sinned again ft the 
law of marriage, and had had one of her children by 
another than he ; and she would have said more, but 
her husband cried out and said : “ Ho ! ho ! ho ! say 
no more ! ” Whereupon he kissed her and pardoned 
her, saying : “ Never say you more, nor tell you to me 
nor to any other which of your children it is, for I 
would love them all with so equal a love that neither 
during your life, nor after your death shall you be 
blamed, for by your blame should I be shamed and your 
children and through them others, to wit our parents, 
should receive foul and perpetual reproach. Where- 
fore be silent : I wish to know no more, so that it 
shall never be said of me that I am doing ill by the 
other two. Whichever he be, I give him in free gift 
henceforward during my life, all that would come to 
him by the law of succession ”. 

Fair sifter, thus you see how the wise man softened 
his heart to save his wife’s honour, which touched the 
honour of himself and his children, and so may you 
learn what wise men and wise women ought to do for 
each other to save their honour. And concerning this 
another ensample may be drawn. 


To be Discreet 

There was once a great and wise man that his wife 
left to go with another young man to Avignon, and 
when this young man was aweary of her he left her, as 
such young men are oftentimes wont to do. She was 
poor and without comfort and she became a common 
woman, because she had not wherewithal to live. 
Then it came to the knowledge of her husband and he 
was in full great distress and set thereto this remedy. 
He mounted his wife’s two brethren upon horseback 
and gave them money and bade them go seek their 
si iter that was even as a common woman in Avignon, 
and bade them clothe her in sackcloth, and hang her 
with cockle shells after the cuftom of pilgrims coming 
from St James [of Compoftella], and mount her suitably 
and when she was a day’s journey from Paris, send her 
to him. They set forth at once and the wise men 
spread abroad and told everyone how that he was full 
glad of heart because his wife was returning in good 
State, gramercy, from the place where he had sent her, 
and when they asked him whither he had sent her, he 
answered that he had lately sent her to St James in 
Galicia, to make a pilgrimage on his behalf, that his 
father had laid upon him on his deathbed. All were 
full aStonied at his words, seeing what men had 
hitherto said of her. When his wife was come to 
within a day’s journey of Paris, he caused his house to 
be adorned with branches and green herbs and called 
together his friends to ride and meet his wife. He 
rode at their head to her, and they kissed, and both fell 
to weeping, and had great joy of each other. He 
caused his wife to be warned that she should speak 
gaily and proudly and boldly to all and to himself and 


The Goodman of Paris 

before the household, and that when she came to Paris 
she should visit all her neighbours one after another 
and show them all a joyful countenance. And so the 
good man came back and kept his wife’s honour. 

And in God’s name, if a man keep his wife’s honour 
and a wife blame her husband or suffer him to be 
blamed, either covertly or openly, she herself hath 
blame thereby and with reason ; for either he is 
wrongly blamed or he is rightly blamed ; if he be 
wrongly blamed, then should she fiercely avenge him ; 
if he be rightly blamed, then ought she graciously to 
cover and sweetly to defend him, for certain it is that 
if the blame remain and be not wiped out, the worse 
her husband is the worse shall be her own report and 
she shall share the blame because she is married to one 
so wicked. For even as he that playeth at chess 
holdeth long time his piece in his hand before he 
setteth it down, in order that he may advise him that 
he may set it in a safe place, even so ought a wife to hold 
her ready to consider and choose and set herself in a 
good place. And if she doth not so, it shall be a 
reproach unto her and she mu ft share her husband’s 
blame ; and if he be blemished in aught, she should 
cover and conceal it with all her might. And behoveth 
the husband to do as much for his wife, as is said above 
and shall be said hereafter. 

I knew a very famous advocate in Parliament, the 
which advocate had a daughter that he had got upon 
a poor woman, who put her out to nurse ; and for want 
of payment, or of visits, or of the courtesies which 
men know not how to do to nurses in such cases, there 
was such talk thereof that the advocate’s wife heard it, 

1 86 



[ face p. IS6 

To be Discreet 

and she heard likewise that I was making the payments 
for this nurture, for to save the honour of her lord, to 
whom I was and am much beholden, may God keep 
him ! Wherefore the wife of this same advocate came 
to me and said that I did great sin to allow her lord to 
be slandered and ill-famed, and that she was in better 
position to undertake the difficulty of this nurture than 
I, and bade me lead her to the place where the child was. 
And she put the child into the care of a sewingwoman, 
and caused her to be taught her trade, and then married 
her, and never did her husband know it by one sign of 
illwill, or one angry or reproachful word. And thus 
do good wives bear them to their husbands and good 
husbands to their wives when they are in error. 


The Ninth Article 

The ninth article showeth how that you shall be 
wise when your husband beareth him foolishly, as 
young and simple folk often do, and that you should 
gently and wisely draw him away from his follies. 
First, if he is in mind to be wroth and deal ill with 
you, take heed that by good patience and gentle words 
you slay his proud cruelty, and if thus you can do, you 
will so have vanquished him that he will rather be 
dead than do you ill, and he will remember him so 
often hereafter of your goodness, howbeit he saith no 
word thereof to you, that you shall have him wholly 
drawn unto you. And if you cannot move him that 
he turn his wrath from you, take heed that you make 
not plaint thereof to your friends or to others, so that 
he may perceive it, for he will think the less of you and 
will remember it another time; but go you into your 
chamber and weep gently and softly in a low voice, 
and make your plaint to God ; and thus do all wise 
ladies. And if perchance he be prone to wrath again ft 
another person less near unto him, do you wisely 
restrain him. 1 . . . 

Wherefore I say unto you that it behoveth good 
ladies, subtly, cautiously and gently, to counsel and 
restrain their husbands from the follies and silly dealings 
whereunto they see them drawn and tempted, and in 
no wise to think to turn them aside by lording over 
them, nor by loud talk, by crying to their neighbours 
or in the ffreet, by blaming them, by making plaint 


To Restrain your Husband 

to their friends and parents, nor by other masterful 
means. For all this bringeth nought but irritation 
and the making of bad worse, for the heart of man 
findeth it hard to be corrected by the domination and 
lordship of a woman, and know that there is no man 
so poor nor of so small value that would not be lord 
and master when he is wed. 

Again will I not be silent concerning an ensample 
of how to reclaim a husband by kindness, the which 
ensample I once heard my late father — God reft his 
soul — tell ; who said that there was a citizen’s wife, 
dwelling at Paris, hight dame Jehanne la Quentine, 
that was wife to Thomas Quentin. She knew that the 
aforesaid Thomas her husband foolishly and lightly 
desported himself, and went with and sometimes lay 
with a poor girl that was a spinner of wool at the wheel, 
and for a long time, without seeming to be aware of it 
or saying a single word, the said dame Jehanne bore 
with it and suffered it very patiently ; and at la ft she 
sought to find where this poor girl lived and sought so 
that she found out. And she came to the house and 
found the poor girl, who had no provisions of any kind, 
neither wood, nor tallow, nor candle, nor oil, nor coal, 
nor anything, save only a bed and a coverlet, her 
spinning wheel and full little furniture beside. Then 
she spoke to her saying : “ My dear, I am bound to 
keep my husband from blame, and because I know that 
he takes pleasure in you and loves you and that he 
comes here, I pray you that you speak of him as little 
as you can in company, to spare him from blame and 
likewise me and our children, and that for your part 
you hide it ; and I swear to you that you and he shall 


The Goodman of Paris 

be well hidden for my part, for since it haps that he 
loves you, it is my intent to love you and help you and 
aid you in all that you have to do, and you shall perceive 
it well ; but I pray you with all my heart that his sin 
be not revealed nor spread abroad. And because I 
know that he is of good birth and has been tenderly 
nurtured, well fed, well warmed, well bedded and well 
covered according to my power, and I see that you 
have little wherewith to do him ease, rather would I 
that you and I together should care for him in health, 
than that I alone should care for him in sickness. So 
I pray you that you love and keep and serve him so that 
by you he may be restrained and kept from leading a 
light life elsewhere in divers dangers ; and without his 
knowledge I will send you a great pail that you may 
often wash his feet, and Store of wood to warm him, a 
fair bed of down, sheets and coverlets according to his 
eState, nightcaps, pillows, and clean hose and linen ; 
and when I shall send you clean ones, so shall you send 
me those that be soiled, and he shall know naught of 
all that is between you and me, leSt he be shamed ; for 
God’s sake bear you so wisely and secretly towards 
him that he learn not our secret ”. Thus it was promised 
and sworn and Jehanne la Quentine departed and 
carefully sent all things as she had promised. 

When Thomas came at eventide to the young girl’s 
house, his feet were washed and he was laid in a fair 
bed of down, with great sheets spread and hanging on 
each side, very well covered and better than had been 
his wont, and on the morrow he had white linen, clean 
hose and fair new slippers. Greatly did he marvel 
at this new thing and was full of thought and went to 



[ face p. 190 


To Restrain your Husband 

hear mass as he had been wont and returned to the girl 
and charged her that these things were ill gotten, and 
very sharply accused her of evil, so that she in self defence 
should tell him whence they were come. For well he 
knew that he had left her poor two or three days before, 
and that she could not have grown so rich in so short 
a time. When she saw herself thus accused, and that 
she mu ft answer in order to defend herself, she knew 
enough of this Thomas’s conscience to know that he 
would believe what she told him ; so she lied not but 
told him the truth concerning all that is aforesaid. 

Then went the said Thomas all shamed to his house, 
more full of thought than ever, but no word said he to 
the said Jehanne his wife, nor she to him, but she served 
him very joyously and he and his wife slept together 
very sweetly that night, without saying a word to each 
other about it. The next day the said Thomas of his 
own will went to hear mass and confessed his sins, and 
soon afterwards returned to the girl and gave her what 
she had of his, and vowed continence and to abstain 
from all women save only his wife as long as he lived. 
And thus did his wife reclaim him by subtlety and very 
humbly and cordially loved him thereafter. And thus 
it behoveth good ladies to counsel and reclaim their 
husbands, not by mastery and pride, but by humility ; 
and bad women know this not nor can their hearts 
endure it, therefore their affairs go often worse than 
before. And albeit many other ensamples thereof 
could be set down, the which would be long to write, 
nathless this should suffice you concerning this article, 
for you have no cause to take heed for this la ft matter, 
and you know well how to avoid the danger. 1 

I 9 I 


The First Article 

Tie which telleth of the tare of the household 

F air siller, know you that I am in great distress 
whether to end here my book, or more thereof 
to set down, for much I fear left I should weary 
you. For it might be that I should charge you with 
so much that you would have cause to hold me un- 
reasonable and that my counsel should lay upon you 
so many things and so grievous that you would despair 
of the too great burden, thinking to shame and anger 
me, because you could neither bear nor perform every- 
thing. Wherefore I would here bethink me and 
consider that I lay not too much upon you and that I 
counsel you to take upon you only those things which 
be very necessary and honourable, and as few of these 
as may be, so that you be in those necessary things the 
better grounded and well condufted and therefore the 
more honoured in your words and deeds. For I 
know that you can do no more than other women, and 
for this reason I would firlf consider how much I have 
laid upon you, and whether more is necessary and 
whether I must burden you with more and with how 
much. And if there be more than you can do, I am 
in mind to give you help ; and thus I gather together 
what I have said to begin with. 



The Goodman of Paris 

Firff, I have admonished you to praise God at your 
waking and your rising, and to betake yourself to 
church, there to hear mass and confess you and put 
yourself in the love and grace of God. By my soul, it 
is needful for you, and it is a thing which none may 
do for you, save only yourself alone. And thereafter, 
I have counselled you to be continent and chaffe, to 
love your husband, obey him, bethink you that you 
keep his secrets, and know how to restrain him if he be 
foolish or desire to do foolish things ; and certes this 
too is needful and very honourable for you, and 
belongeth to you alone and is not too great a burden ; 
you may well perform it by the help of the aforesaid 
dodtrine, which will much advantage you ; for other 
women never had the like. 

Certain it is, to boot, that after the matters aforesaid 
you mu ft bethink you for yourself, your children and 
your household, but in these three things you may well 
have help. So it is meet that I tell you how you may 
comport yourself therein, what help and what folk you 
sbap take and how you shall set them to work, for in 
these affairs I would that you should have only the 
ordering thereof, and the supervision and the care of 
setting others to perform them at your husband’s coffc. 

Thus you may well see, dear sifter, that you ought 
not to complain and that you are not overburdened, 
for that you are charged only with that which none 
other but you can do, a thing in sooth which should be 
full pleasant to you, as to serve God and take thought 
for the person of your husband, and that is the sum 
of all. 1 


The Second Article 

'The which article telleth nf the art nf gardening 

FirSl, be it noted that whatsoever you sow, plant or 
graft, you should sow, plant or graft in damp weather 
and at eve or early morn, before the heat of the sun, 
and in the wane of the moon, and you should water 
the dem and the earth and not the leaves. 

Item , you should not water in the heat of the sun, 
but at eve or in the morning ; cut not cabbage, 
parsley, nor other such green things which shoot again, 
for the heat of the sun will harden and burn the cut, 
and so the plant will never sprout again at the place 
of the cut. 

Note that in rainy weather it is good to plant but not 
to sow, for the seed fticketh to the rake. 

From the season of All Saints [Nov. ift] we have 
beans, but that they may not be frostbitten, do you 
plant them towards Chriftmas and in January and 
February and at the beginning of March ; and plant 
them thus at divers times, so that if some be taken by 
the froft others be not. And when they come up out 
of the ground, so soon as the tops thereof show, you 
should rake them and break the first shoot ; and as soon 
as they have six leaves you should spread earth over 
them. And of them all, the fir ft come be the mo ft 
delicate and they muft be eaten the day they are 
shelled, or else they become black and bitter. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Note that if you would keep violets and marjoram in 
winter against the cold, you mu it not move them of a 
sudden from cold to heat, nor from damp to cold, 
for he that keepeth them long time through the winter 
in a damp cellar and suddenly setteth them in a dry 
place, loseth them ; e t sic de contrariis similibus. 

In winter you should cut off the dead branches of 
the sage plants. Again let sage, lavender, dittany, 
mint, clary, be planted in January and February, up 
to May. Let parsnips be sown broadcast. Let 
sorrel be sown at the wane of the moon and up to 
March or later. 

Note, that the winter weather of December and 
January kills the porray or greens 1 , to wit all that be 
above ground, but in February the roots put forth 
fresh and tender green again, to wit as soon as the fro ft 
endeth, and a fortnight later cometh spinach. 

February. — Savory and marjoram be as it were of 
the same savour to eat, and they be sown at the wane 
and stay only eight days in the earth. Item, savory 
laffeth only until St John’s Day [June 24th]. Item, 
in the wane you should plant trees and vines and sow 
white and headed cabbage. Note that layers 1 put out 
roots from the moment that they be planted. 

Spinach comes in February and has a long crenellated 
leaf like an oak leaf, and grows in tufts like greens and 
you mu ft blanch them and cook them well afterwards. 
Beets come later. 

Note that it is good to plant raspberry-bushes and 
also raspberries. 

March. — At the wane you should graft ; plant 
house-leek from March to St John’s Day. Violets 



[ face p. 1 % 

Of the. Art of Gardening 

and gillifiowers sown in March or planted on St Remy’s 
Day [Oct. 28th]. Item, both of these, when the fronts 
draw near, you should replant in pots, at a season when 
the moon waneth, in order to set them under cover and 
keep them from the cold in a cellar, and by day set 
them in the air or in the sun and water them at such 
time that the water may be drunken up and the earth 
dry before you set them under cover, for never should 
you put them away wet in the evening. Plant beans 
and break the firft shoot by raking them, as is aforesaid. 
Note, that parsley sown on the Eve of Lady Day in 
March [March 24th] is above ground in nine days. 

Plant fennel and marjoram at the wane in March or 
April ; and note that marjoram delighteth in a richer 
soil than violets, and if it be too much in the shade it 
groweth yellow. Item, when it has well taken hold, 
then mu ft you take it up in tufts and replant it 
separately in pots. Item, branches cut off, set in the 
earth and watered, put forth roots and grow. Item , 
land manured with cow and sheep dung is better than 
with horse dung. 

March violets and Armenian violets 1 desire neither 
cover nor shelter ; and note that the Armenian violet 
doth not flower until the second year, but gardeners 
who have had it in the ground for a year, sell it and 
replant it elsewhere, and then it flowereth. 

Sorrel and basil be sown in January and February 
and as late as March at the wane of the moon, and if 
you would transplant sorrel sown the year before, you 
mu ft transplant it with all the earth which is round its 
roots. I tem , there is an art in cooking it, for you should 
always gather the big leaves and leave the little leaves 


The Goodman of Paris 

that be beneath them to grow ; and if perchance all 
have been gathered, it is beft to cut the ftem down to 
the ground, and fresh sorrel will grow again. 

Sow parsley, weed it and remove the stones, and that 
which is sown in August is the be si, for it doth not grow 
high and keepeth its goodness all the year long. 

Lettuces should be sown, and note that they do not 
linger in the ground, but come up very thickly, where- 
fore you mu ft root them up here and there, to give 
space to the reft that they crowd not. And note that 
the seed of French lettuce is black, and the seed of 
Avignon lettuce is whiter, and Monseigneur de La 
Riviere 1 caused it to be introduced, and the lettuces 
be better and somewhat tenderer than those of France ; 
and the seed is gathered from one head after the other, 
as each head puts out its branch thereof. 

Note , that lettuces be not planted, and likewise 
when you would have them to eat, you mu ft pull them 
up root and all. 

Pumpkins. The pips are the seed and they muft be 
soaked for two days and then sown ; and you muft 
let them grow without moiftening them until they 
show above ground, and then moiften the foot only 
and the earth, without wetting the leaves, and in April 
water them gently and transplant them from one place 
to another, about four inches or half a foot in the earth, 
each pumpkin half a foot away from the next, and keep 
the ftem ever moift, by hanging a pot with a hole 
therein on a ftick, and in the pot a ftraw and some 
water, etc., or a ftrip of new cloth . 3 

Sow beets in May and when they be ready for 
eating, let them be cut down close to the root, for 


Of the Art of Gardening 

they always shoot forth and grow again and become 

Borage and orach as above. 

White cabbage and headed cabbage be the same 1 ; 
and they be sown in the wane of March, and when they 
have five leaves, they muil they be pulled up gently 
and planted half a foot each from each, and they muff 
be set in earth up to the eye and their roots watered ; 
and they be eaten in June and July. 

Cabbage hearts be sown in March and transplanted 
in May. Roman cabbages be of the same nature as 
these and of the same sort of seed, for in both the seed 
groweth upon the ftem, and from the seed that 
cometh from the midmoft ffcalk and is topmoft 
groweth the heart of cabbage and from the seed that 
cometh from below grow the Roman cabbages. 
Lenten sprouts be the second growth of the cabbage 
and they la ft until March and those March sprouts be 
of Wronger taffce in eating, wherefore should they 
be longer boiled, and at this time the ftalks mu ft be 
pulled up from the ground. Note , , that cabbages 
should be planted in July when it raineth. 

Note, that ants abound in a garden and if you caft 
sawduft of oaken planks upon their heap, they will die 
or depart at the firft rain that falleth, for the sawduft 
retaineth the moifture. 

Note, that in April and May each month you shall 
sow the porray or greens for eating in June and July. 
Summer greens muft be cut down and their roots left 
in the ground and after winter the roots put forth 
green again and it is meet to cover them with earth 
and rake the earth round them and there sow the new 


The Goodman of Paris 

ones which be to come and gather the green put forth 
by the old. Note that it is meet to sow porray from 
April to St Mary Magdalen’s Day [July 22nd] and the 
Lenten greens be sown in July and up to St Mary 
Magdalen’s Day and no later and they be called beets. 
Item , spinach. Item, the aforesaid beets, when they 
show above the ground, muff be transplanted in 
rows. Item, in April and May it behoves to plant 
out white cabbages and cabbage hearts that were sown 
in February and March. In May come new beans, 
turnips and radishes. 

Note that you mu ft sow parsley on St John’s Eve in 
June [June 23rd] and also on the eve of mid-Augufl. 

August and mid- August. — Sow hyssop. Cabbages 
for EaStertide be sown at the wane of the moon and 
parsley too, for it groweth not high. 

Note that porray or greens that be in the ground put 
forth new greens five or six times, like unto parsley, and 
you can cut them above the flump up to mid-Septem- 
ber and thereafter cut them not, for the flump will 
decay, but flrip off the outer leaves with your hands 
and not those that be midmofl. 

At this season it is meet to cut down all greens that 
be run to seed, for the seed cannot ripen by reason of 
the coldness of the weather, and if the seed be cut 
and cafl away the flump beareth new greens. Item, at 
this time it behoveth not to cut parsley, but to pluck 
it leaf by leaf. 

After the Nativity of Our Lady in September [? la 
Sep tembresse, Sept. 8th] let poeny, dragonwort 
[serpentine], lily bulbs, rose trees and currant bushes 
be planted. 


Of the Art of Gardexlw. 

October. — Peas, bean-', a finger deep in earth ami 
four inches apart and let them be the largest beans 
possible, for when they be new they look larger than 
the little ones and you should plant but a few, and 
at each wane that followeth a few, so that if some be 
shrivelled in the fro si:, others be not. 

If you w'ould sow pierced peas, sow them in a dry 
fine weather and not in rain, for if the rain water should 
enter within the opening of the pea, it would rot and 
split in half and would not germinate. 

Up to All Saints cabbages may always be transplanted 
and when they be too much eaten by caterpillars, so 
that no leaf remaineth save only the veins, if they be 
transplanted they all bear sprouts ; and it is meet to 
Ifrip off the lower leaves and replant them up to 
the topmost eye. The Slumps from which all the 
leaves have been Gripped should not be transplanted, 
but should be left in the earth, for they will bear 

Note, that if you plant in summer in dry weather, 
you should water the holes, but not so in damp 

Note, that if the caterpillars eat your cabbages, do 
you spread cinders beneath the cabbages when it rains 
and the caterpillars will die. Item, you may look under 
the leaves of the cabbages and there you shall find a 
great holt of white grubs and know that it is from these 
that the caterpillars be born, wherefore you should 
cut off the leaves whereon is this seed and calf them 
afar off. 

Let leeks be sown in season and then transplanted in 
October and November. 


The Goodman of Paris 

If you would have grapes without pips, take at the 
waxing of the moon in the time when vines be planted, 
to wit in February, a vine plant with its root, and slit 
the flock right through the midfl unto the root, and 
draw out the pith from each side. Then prune the 
flock and bind it all the length thereof with black 
thread, then plant the flock and manure it with good 
manure, and fill up the hole with earth above the join 
of the flock. 1 

If you would graft a cherry or a plum upon a vine 
flock, prune the vine, then in March cut it four fingers 
breadth from the end and draw out the pith from each 
side, and there make place for the kernel of a cherry 
flone, and put it and enclose it within the cut, and bind 
with thread the flock joined as is aforesaid. 

If you would graft a vine flock upon a cherry tree, 
do you prune the vine flock, which shall be planted a 
long time and ;ooted near to the cherry, and in March, 
round about Lady Day [March 25th] pierce your 
cherry tree with a wimble of the size of the said flock, 
and push the aforesaid flock into the hole in the 
aforesaid cherry, so that it enters for a foot’s length at 
lea ft, then flop up the hole on both sides of the cherry, 
to wit with clay and moss, and bind it round with 
cloths so that no rain may touch the opening. Item , 
the bark should be ftripped off the vine flock that is 
within the trunk of the cherry and it should be peeled 
down to the green, for if this be done thus and the bark 
be peeled and caft away, the pith of the flock will join 
the pith of the cherry and they will become one, 
which would be prevented by the bark of the flock 
if it remained. Having done this, do you leave them 




[face p. 202 

Of the Art of Gardening 

together for two years, and afterwards cut the Hock 
behind and below the juncture with the cherry. 

Item , you can graft ten or twelve trees upon the 
trunk or Hump of an oak ; to wit in the month of 
March, round about Lady Day, furnish yourself with 
as many grafts and divers fruits as you be minded to 
have for grafting, and cause the oak or tree on which 
you would make your graft to be sawn asunder ; and 
having sharpened your grafts on one side only in the 
manner of a blind corner, even thus f , in such a way 
that the bark of the aforesaid graft is whole on the one 
side, without being stripped or cut, then slip your 
grafts between the bark of the oak and the wood, with 
the pith of the graft towards the wood or pith of the 
oak. Then flop it up and cover it with clay and moss 
and cloths, that neither rain, snow nor froH may 
harm it. 

If you would keep roses in winter, take from the rose 
tree little buds that be not full blown and leave the 
ftems thereof long, and set them within a little wooden 
cask like unto a comport cask, without water. Cause 
the cask to be well closed and so tightly bound up that 
naught may come in or out thereof, and at the 
two ends of the aforesaid cask tie two great and 
heavy Hones and set the aforesaid cask in a running 
Hr earn. 

Rosemary. — Gardeners say that the seed of rosemary 
groweth never in French soil, but whosoever shall pluck 
little branches of rosemary and shall ftrip them from 
the top downwards and take them by the ends and 
plant them, he shall see them grow again ; and if you 
would send them far away, you muH wrap the aforesaid 


Thf Goodman of Paris 

branches in waxed cloth and sew them up and then 
smear the parcel outside with honey, and then powder 
with wheaten flour, and you may send them where- 
soever you will. 

I have heard Monseigneur de Berry say that in 
Auvergne the cherries be larger than in France, because 
they layer their cherry trees. 


The Third Article 

5 The which telleth of the choice of varlets % servants and chambermaid j, etc . 

Concerning which matter, dear sifter, if haply you 
should desire to become a good housewife, or to help 
thereto some lady among your friends, know you that 
serving folk be of three kinds. Some there be that be 
hired as workmen for a fixed time, to perform some 
short piece of work, as porters who carry burdens on 
their backs, wheelbarrow men, packers and the like; 
or for one day or two, a week or a short season, to 
perform some necessary, or difficult, or laborious work, 
as reapers, mowers, threshers, vintagers, basket bearers, 
wine pressers, coopers and the like. Others [be hired] 
for a time and for a special craft, as dressmakers, 
furriers, bakers, butchers, shoemakers and the like, who 
work by the piece upon a particular task. And others 
be taken to be domeftic servants, serving by the year 
and dwelling in the house. And of all these none 
there is that doth not full readily seek work and a 

As touching the firft, they be necessary for the un- 
loading and carrying of burdens and the doing of heavy 
work ; and these be commonly tiresome, rough and 
prone to answer back, arrogant, haughty (save on pay 
day), and ready to break into insults and reproaches if 
you do not pay them what they ask when the work is 
done. So I pray you, dear sifter, that when it behoveth 
you to order this matter, you bid mafter Jehan the 


The Goodman of Paris 

Dispenser 1 or other of your folk to seek out, choose and 
take, or cause to be sought out, chosen and taken, the 
peaceable ones ; and always bargain with them before 
they set hand to the work, that there may be no dispute 
afterwards, nathless mo ft often they wish not to 
bargain, but desire to fall upon the task without 
bargain made, and they say gently : “ Milord, it is 
naught — there is no need ; you will pay me well, and 
I shall be content with what you think fit And if 
Master Jehan take them thus, when the work is 
finished they will say : “ Sir, there was more to do 
than I thought ; there was this and that to do, and 
here and there to go ” ; and they will not take what is 
given them and will break out into shouting and foul 
words. So bid Master Jehan not to set them to work, 
nor suffer them to be set to work, without firft making 
terms with them, for those that desire to earn be your 
subje&s before the work is begun, and for the need that 
they have to earn they fear left another should take it 
before them and fear to lose the work and the wage 
thereof to another. Wherefore they bear themselves 
more reasonably. And if perchance Maffcer Jehan were 
to believe in them and put too great faith in their fair 
words, and it befel therefore that he suffered them to 
begin work without bargaining, they know well that 
after they have set their hand to it, none other for shame 
will meddle with it, and so you will be in their power 
afterwards and they will ask more ; and if then they 
be not paid according to their will, they will cry and 
shout foul and outrageous blame upon you ; and they 
have no shame and spread abroad evil report concerning 
you, which is worft of all. Wherefore it is better to 


How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

bargain ■with them plainly and openly before the work, 
to avoid all argument. And certes, this do I beg of 
you, that if need be you cause enquiry to be made, 
how those whom you would set to work have borne 
them towards others, and also that you have naught 
to do with folk who answer back and be arrogant, 
proud and scornful, or give foul answers, however great 
profit or advantage it seemeth to be and however 
cheaply they be minded to come ; but do you graciously 
and quietly send them away from you and from your 
work, for if once they begin thereon, you shall not 
escape without slander and wrangling. Wherefore 
cause your people to engage servants and workmen that 
be peaceful and debonnair, and pay them more, for all 
of peace and reft lieth in having to deal with worthy 
servants ; for which reason there is a saying, “ he that 
hath to do with good servants, he hath peace ” ; and 
likewise one might well say that he that hath to do 
with grumblers layeth up sorrow for himself. 

Item concerning others, such as vintagers, threshers, 
labourers and the like, or such as tailors, clothmakers, 
shoemakers, bakers, farriers, tallow-candlemakers, 
spicers, blacksmiths, wheelwrights, and others like unto 
them, dear sifter, I counsel and pray you ever to bear 
in mind that you bid your people to have quiet folk 
to work for them and to make bargain beforehand and 
to reckon and make payment often, without long 
credit by tally or on paper. Nathless better it is to 
keep tally and paper than to keep all things in the 
memory, for creditors think ever that the sum is more 
and debtors that it is less, and thereby is born wrang- 
ling, hatred and foul reproach ; and cause your good 


The Goodman* of Paris 

creditors to be paid readily and often that which is 
owing to them and bear yourself lovingly towards 
them, that they change not towards you ; for it is not 
always possible to find others that be peaceable folk. 

Item, as to chambermaids and house varlets, who 
are called domestics, know, dear sifter, that in order 
that they may obey you better and fear the more to 
anger you, I leave you the rule and authority to have 
them chosen by Dame Agnes the Beguine 1 , or whichever 
other of your women you please, to receive them into 
our service, to hire them at your pleasure, to pay and 
keep them in our service as you please, and to dismiss 
them when you will. Nathless you should privily speak 
with me about it and a £t according to my advice, 
because you are too young and might be deceived by 
your own people. And know that of those chamber- 
maids that be out of a place, many there be who offer 
themselves and clamour and seek urgently for mafters 
and mi fir esses ; and of these take none until you first 
know where their last place was, and send some of your 
people to get their character, to wit whether they 
chattered or drank too much, how long they were in 
the place, what work they have been wont to do and 
know how to do, whether they have homes or friends 
in the town, from what manner of folk and what part 
of the country they come, how long they were there 
and why they left ; and by their work in the pa ft you 
shall find out what hope or expectation you may have 
of their work in the future. And know that oftentimes 
such women from distant parts of the country have 
been blamed for some vice in their own diftridt and 
this it is that bringeth them into service at a distance. 


How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

For if they were without fault they would be mistresses 
and not servants ; and of men I say the same. And if 
you find from the report of her master and ml stress 
that a girl is what you need, find out from her and 
cause MaSter Jehan to register in his account book in 
her presence, on that same day whereon you engage her, 
her name and the names of her father and mother and 
some of her kinsfolk, and the place where they live and 
her birthplace and her references. For servants will 
fear the more to do wrong if they know that you are 
recording these things, and that if they leave you with- 
out permission, or be guilty of any offence, you will 
write and complain to the juStice of their country and 
to their friends. And notwithstanding bear in mind 
the saying of the philosopher called Bertram the Old, 
who saith that if you engage a maid or man of high 
and proud answers, you shall know that when she 
leaveth she will miscall you if she can ; and if, on the 
contrary, she be flattering and full of blandish- 
ments, truSt her not, for she seeketh in some other 
way to trick you ; but if she blushes and is silent and 
shamefaSt when you correct her, love her as your 

Next wot you well, dear sifter, that after your 
husband, you should be miStress of the house, the giver 
of orders, visitor, ruler and sovereign administrator, 
and it is for you to keep your maidservants in subjection 
and obedience to you, teaching, correcting and 
chastising them ; wherefore forbid them all excess and 
gluttony of life. 

Also forbid them to quarrel with each other or with 
your neighbours ; forbid them to speak ill of others, 



The Goodman of Paris 

save only to you and in secret, and in so far only as the 
misdeed concerneth your profit, and to save harm from 
befalling you and not otherwise ; forbid them to lie, 
to play at forbidden games, to swear foully and to utter 
words that smell of villainy, unseemly words and 
ribald, like to certain evil or ill-bred persons, who curse 
upon “ bloody bad fevers, the bloody bad week, the 
bloody bad day ’V It seemeth that they know well 
what is a bloody day and a bloody week, but that know 
they not, nor should they know what a bloody thing 
is, for honeft women know it not, for it is abominable 
to them to see the blood but of a lamb or a pigeon, if 
it be slain before them. And certes, women should 
utter no foulness. . . . Item there be foul 

mouthed women, who say sometimes of a woman that 
she is a whore or light, and so saying it seemeth that 
they know well what is a whore or a light woman, and 
hone ft women know naught of this ; wherefore forbid 
such language to them, for they know not what they 
say. Forbid revenge to them and teach them in all 
patience by the ensample of Melibeus, of whom I have 
told you, and for you yourself, dear sifter, be you 
such in all that you do, that in you they may find an 
ensample of all goodness. 

Now it behovethme to speak of setting your folk and 
your servants to work at times meet for work and of 
giving them re ft likewise at due times. Concerning the 
which matter, dear sifter, know that you and Dame 
Agnes the Beguine (who is with you to teach you wise 
and ripe behaviour and to serve and lesson you, and to 
whom in particular I give the charge of this matter) must 
devise and order and lay one duty upon one and another 


How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

upon the other, according to the work which has to be 
done and the fitness of your folk to one sort of labour 
or another. And if you bid them to do something 
now and these your servants answer : “ There is 
plenty of time ”, “ It shall be done soon ”, or “ It 
shall be done early to-morrow morn ”, consider it to 
be forgot ; all mull be done again, it goes for naught. 
And likewise concerning that which you order all in 
general to do, know that each waiteth for the other 
to do it, and it is as before. 

So be you warned, and bid dame Agnes the Beguine 
see that which you desire to be done at once begun 
before her eyes ; and firft, let her bid the chamber- 
maids very early to sweep out and clean the entrances 
to your house, to wit the hall and other places whereby 
people enter and flay to speak in the house, and let 
them duft and shake out the covers and cushions 
which be on the benches; and afterwards let the other 
rooms be likewise cleaned and tidied for the day, and 
so daily, as beseemeth our estate. 

Item, through the said dame Agnes do you chiefly 
and carefully and diligently take thought for your 
chamber animals, as little dogs and birds ; and also 
do you and the Beguine take thought for other domestic 
birds, for they cannot speak, and therefore muft you 
speak and think for them, if you have any. 

And also I bid dame Agnes the Beguine, when you 
are in the country, to order those whose business it 
is to take thought for the other beafts ; as Robin the 
shepherd, to look to his sheep, ewes and lambs and 
Josson the oxherd to his oxen and bulls, Arnould the 
cowherd and Jehanneton the dairymaid to take thought 


The Goodman of Paris 

for the kine, the heifers and the calves, the sows, pigs 
and piglings, Eudeline the farmer’s wife to look to the 
geese, goslings, cocks, hens, chickens, doves and pigeons, 
and the carter or the farmer to take thought for our 
horses, mares and the like. And the said Beguine and 
you yourself likewise, ought to show your folk that you 
know about it all and care about it, for so will they be 
the more diligent. And, if you remember, cause your 
people to remember to feed these beafts and birds, and 
dame Agnes ought to lay this work upon those men 
and women that be beft suited thereto. And here- 
upon be it observed that it behoves you to cause dame 
Agnes the Beguine to inform you of the tale of your 
sheep, ewes and lambs, and to have them constantly 
visited and to make enquiry concerning their increase 
and decrease and how or by whom they be cared for, 
and she should report it to you, and between the two 
of you you should cause it to be written down. 

And if you be in a part where there be wolves, I 
will teach maSter Jehan, the Steward of your household, 
or your shepherds and servants how to kill them without 
striking a blow, according to the recipe which followeth. 
— Recife for a -powder to kill wolves and foxes. [Let 
him] take the root of black hellebore (it is the hellebore 
that hath a white flower) and dry the root thoroughly 
and not in the sun, and clean the earth therefrom ; 
and then make it into powder in a mortar and with 
this powder mix a fifth part of glass well ground and a 
fourth part of lily leaf, and let it all be mixed and 
pounded together, so that it can be passed through a 
sieve. Item, [let him] take honey and fresh fat in equal 
part and mix them with the aforesaid powder, and 


PL ATE Kill 

** Bulhz Photo’* 


[ fact p • 212 

How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

make it into a hard and fliff pa fie, rolling it into round 
balls of the size of a hen s egg, and cover theafore said 
balls with fresh fat and lay them upon atones and shards, 
in the places where he knoweth that wolves and foxes 
will come. And if he wish to use an old dead beafl 
as a decoy, he may do so two or three days beforehand. 
Item , he may also scatter the powder upon the carrion, 
without making it into balls. 

Thus do you and the Beguine set some of your folk 
to do the work that ;s proper to them, and also bid 
master Jehan the Dispenser send or cause to be sent 
others to visit your barns, to move and dry your grain 
and your other stores ; and if your household beareth 
word that the rats be harming your corn, bacon, cheese 
and other provisions, tell master Jehan that he may 
destroy them in six ways : iff, by having good array 
of cats, 2nd, by ratcatchers and mousecatchers, 3rd, by 
traps made of little planks upon flicks, which good 
servants make, 4th, by making cakes of pafle and toafled 
cheese and powdered aconite and setting these near to 
their holes, where they have naught to drink, 5th, if 
you cannot keep them from finding water to drink, it is 
meet to cut up little pieces of sponge, and then if they 
swallow these and drink afterwards, they will swell up 
and die, 6th, take an ounce of aconite, two ounces of 
fine arsenic, a quarter of pig’s fat, a pound of fine 
wheaten meal and four eggs, and out of these make 
bread and cook it in the oven and cut into it ffrips and 
nail them down with a nail. 

Now let me return to my subject of how you shall 
set your folk to work, you and the Beguine, at fit 
times and shall cause your women to air and go over 


The Goodman of Paris 

your sheets, coverlets, dresses and furs, fur coverlets 
and other things of the sort. Concerning which know 
you and tell you your women, that in order to preserve 
your fur coverlets and your fluffs, it is meet often to 
air them, in order to prevent the damage which moths 
may do unto them ; and because such vermin gather 
when the cold weather of autumn and winter groweth 
milder and be born in the summer, at such time it 
behoves you to set out furs and fluffs in the sun in fair 
and dry weather ; and if there come a dark and damp 
mifl and clingeth to your dresses and you fold them in 
such condition, that mifl folded and wrapped up in 
your dresses will shelter and breed worse vermin than 
before. Wherefore choose a fine dry day and as soon 
as you see heavier weather coming, before that it 
reacheth you cause your dresses to be hung up under 
cover and shaken to get rid of mofl of the dufl, then 
cleaned by beating them with dry rods. And the 
Beguine knoweth well that if there be any spot of oil 
or other grease, this is the remedy : Take wine and 
heat it until it is warm and set the flain to soak therein 
for two days, and then wring out the fluff in which 
the flain is, without squeezing it too hard, and if the 
flain be not gone, let dame Agnes the Beguine have 
more wine prepared and mix oxgall therewith and do 
as before. Or you shall do thus : cause fullers’ earth 
to be taken and soaked in lye and then put upon the 
flain and allow it to dry and then rub it ; if the earth 
cometh not off easily, cause it to be moiflened with lye 
and allow it to dry again and rub until it goeth ; or 
if you have no fullers’ earth, set ashes to soak in lye 
and when they be well moiflened lay them upon the 


*»1 »***«■•**» 


[face. p. 214 

How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

slain ; or take very clean feathers of chickens and fteep 
them in very hot water, in order that any grease upon 
them may remain therein, and rinse them again in 
clean water, full hot : rub well and all ftains will go. 

If a blue robe be in any way Gained or faded, take 
a sponge and soak it in clean and clear lye, and then 
squeeze it out and wipe the dress therewith, rubbing 
the ftain, and the colour will return. And if on fluffs 
of any other colours there be faded places, cause full 
clean lye, which hath not been used upon drapery, 
to be taken and mixed with ashes upon the ftain and 
allow it to dry, and then cause it to be rubbed and the 
original colour will return. 

To take ftains out of dresses of silk, satin, camlet, 
damask or other such, fteep and wash the ftain in 
verjuice and the ftain will depart, and even though the 
dress be faded, yet will its colour return ( this do I not 

Verjuice. Note that at that season wherein fresh 
verjuice is made, it is meet to take a flask thereof 
without salt and keep it, for it serveth to take ftains 
from dresses and reftore their colour, and it is always 
good, whether new or old. 

Item, if any of your fur coverlets or furs have been 
damp and have grown hard, take the fur off the 
garment, and sprinkle the fur which is hard with wine, 
and let it be sprinkled with the mouth, even as a dress- 
maker sprinkles with water the lappet of a dress that 
wrinkleth, and caft flour upon it thus watered, and 
allow it to dry for a day ; then well rub the fur, until 
it returneth to its firft ftate. 

Now let me return to what I was saying before, and 


The Goodman of Paris 

let me say that your steward ought to know that each 
week he musT: examine and tafte your wines, verjuice 
and vinegar and look at the grain, oil, nuts, peas, beans 
and other stores. And as to wines, know that if they 
fall sick, their sickness mu ft be cured in the following 
manner : 

Firft, if the wine should go bad, he mu ft set the 
barrel in winter in the mid ft of a courtyard upon two 
treftles, so that the froft catches it, and it will be cured. 

Item , if the wine be too tart, he muft take a basket 
full of black grapes very ripe, and put it into the 
barrel through the bung hole, and the wine will 

Item , if the wine smell ill, he muft take an ounce of 
powdered elder wood and an equal quantity of grain of 
Paradise [cardamon] powdered and put each of the 
powders aforesaid in a little bag and pierce it with a 
ftick, and then hang both the bags inside the cask on 
cords and ftop up the bunghole firmly. 

Item if the wine be muddy, take twelve eggs and set 
them to boil in water till they be hard, and then caft: 
away the yolks and leave the whites and the shells 
together, and then fry them in an iron frying pan and 
put them, ftill hot, into a bag pierced with a ftick as 
above, and hang them in the cask by cords. 

Item, take a big new pot and set it above an empty 
tripod, and when it is well baked, break it into pieces 
and throw them into the cask and they will cure the 

Item, to take the redness out of white wine, take a 
basket full of holly leaves and caft them into the cask 
through the bunghole. 


How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

Item , if the wine be bitter, take a crock of water and 
pour it in, that it may separate the wine from the 
dregs, and then take a dish full of corn and set it to 
soak in water, and then throw away the water and set 
it in fresh water to boil, and boil it therein until the 
grain is on the point of bursting and then take it out ; 
and if therein there be burSt grains, caff them away, 
and then pour the hot corn into the cask. And if the 
wine refuseth to clear for this, take a basket full of 
sand well washed in Seine water and caSt it into the 
cask through the bunghole and it will clear. 

Item, to make a strong wine of the vintage do not 
fill up the cask with more than about two gallons of 
wine, and rub all round the bung and then it cannot 
drip out and it will thereby be Stronger. 

Item, to tap a cask of wane without letting air into 
it, bore a little hole with a drill near the bunghole, and 
then take a little wad of tow of the size of a silver 
penny 1 and set it thereon, and take two little Sticks 
and put them crosswise over the aforesaid wad, and 
set another wad upon the sticks. And to clear thick 
wine, if it be in a cask, empty two quart pots of it, 
then Stir it up with a Stick or otherwise, until the dregs 
and all are well mixed, then take a quarter of a pound 
of eggs, and beat up the yolks and the whites for a long 
while until the whole is fine and clear like water, and 
then caSt in a quarter of pounded alum and immediately 
thereon a quart of clear water and Stop it up, otherwise 
it will run away by the bunghole. 

And after this and with this, fair siSter, bid maSter 
Jehan the Dispenser to order Richart of the kitchen to 
air, wash and clean and do all things that appertain to 


The Goodman of Paris 

the kitchen, and see you that dame Agnes the Beguine 
for the women and mailer Jehan the Dispenser for the 
men, set your folk to work on all sides : the one 
up Hairs, the other downHairs, the one in the fields, 
the other in the town, the one in the chamber, the 
other in the solar 1 , or the kitchen, and send one here 
and the other there, each after his place and his skill, 
so that these servants all earn their wages, men and 
women according to what they know and have to do ; 
and if they do so, they will do well, for know you that 
laziness and idleness be the root of all evil. 

Nathless, fair sifter, at times fitting cause them to be 
seated at table, and give them to eat one kind of meat 
only, but good plenty thereof, and not several varieties, 
nor dainties and delicacies ; and order them one drink 
nourishing but not intoxicating, be it wine or some- 
thing else, and not several kinds. And do you bid them 
to eat well and drink well and deeply, for it is reason- 
able that they should eat at a Hretch, without sitting 
too long over their food and without lingering over 
their meat, or Haying with their elbows on the table. 
And so soon as they shall begin to tell tales and to argue 
and to lean upon their elbows, order the Beguine to 
make them rise and remove their table, for the common 
folk have a saying : “ When a varlet holds forth at 
table and a horse grazes in the ditch, it is time to take 
them away for they have had their fill ”. Forbid them 
to get drunk, and never allow a drunken person to 
serve you nor approach you, for it is perilous ; and 
after they have taken their midday meal, when it is 
due time, cause your folk to set them to work again. 
And after their afternoon’s work, and upon feaH days, 


How to Choose Varlets and Servants 

let them have another meal, and after that, to wit in 
the evening, let them be fed abundantly and well as 
before, and if the weather be cold let them warm them- 
selves and take their ease. 

After this, let your house be closed and shut up by 
master Jehan the Dispenser or by the Beguine, and let 
one of them keep the keys, so that none may go in or 
out without leave. And every evening ere you go to 
bed cause dame Agnes the Beguine or mailer Jehan 
the Dispenser to go round with a lighted candle, to 
inspect your wines, verjuice and vinegar, that none be 
taken away, and bid your farmer find out from his men 
whether your beaSfs have fodder for the night. And 
when you have made sure by dame Agnes or master 
Jehan that the fires on the hearths be everywhere 
covered, give to your folk time and space for the 
repose of their limbs. And make you certain before- 
hand that each hath, at a distance from his bed, a 
candlestick with a large foot wherein to put his candle, 
and that they have been wisely taught how to extinguish 
it with mouth or hand before getting into bed, and by 
no means with their shirts. And do you also have 
them admonished and told, each separately what he 
mu St begin to do on the morrow, and how each mu St 
rise up on the morrow morn and set to work on his own 
task, and let each be informed thereon. And nathless 
there be two things I would say unto you : the one is 
that if you have girls or chambermaids of fifteen to 
twenty years, since they be foolish at that age and 
naught have seen of the world, do you cause them to 
sleep near to you, in a closet or chamber, where there 
is no dormer window or low window looking onto the 


The Goodman of Paris 

road, and let them go to bed and arise at your own 
time, and do you yourself (who, if God please, will be 
wise ere this time) be near to guard them. The other 
thing is that if one of your servants fall ill, do you lay 
all common concerns aside, and do you yourself take 
thought for him full lovingly and kindly, and visit him 
and think of him or her very carefully, seeking to bring 
about his cure. And thus you will have fulfilled this 

Now I am in mind in this place to let you reft, or 
disport you, and no more to speak to you ; and while 
you enjoy yourself elsewhere, I shall speak to mafter 
Jehan the Dispenser, who ruleth our household, so 
that he shall know a little of what he should do if any 
of our horses, as well carthorses or fteeds for riding, 
be out of aftion, or if it be necessary to buy or exchange 
a horse . 1 . . . 


The Fourth Article 

The which teachetk you how you , as sovereign miMress of your household^ 
muff know how to order and devise dinners and suppers with Madder Jehan> 
and how to devise dishes and courses. 

And at the beginning I will set certain terms, how 
they be used, the which shall be an introduction or at 
lead an amusement unto you. 

Primo, since it is meet that you send master Jehan 
to the butcheries, hereafter follow the names of all the 
butcheries of Paris and their deliveries of meat. 1 

At the Porte-de-Paris there be nineteen butchers 
who by common estimation sell weekly, taking them all 
together and the busy season with the empty season, 
1,900 sheep, 400 oxen, 400 pigs and 200 calves. 

Sainte-Geneireve : 500 sheep, 16 oxen, 16 pigs and 
6 calves. 

Le Parvis : 80 sheep, 10 oxen, 10 calves and 8 pigs. 

At Saint-Germain there be thirteen butchers ; 
200 sheep, 30 oxen, 30 calves and 50 pigs. 

The Temple, 2 butchers ; 200 sheep, 24 oxen, 28 
calves, 32 pigs. 

Saint-Martin : 250 sheep, 32 oxen, 32 calves, 22 pigs. 

Sum of all the butcheries of Paris, weekly, without 
counting the households of the King and the Queen 
and other our lords of France, 3,080 sheep, 514 oxen, 
306 calves and 600 pigs. And on Good Friday there 
be sold from 2,000 to 3,000 salted porks. 


The Goodman of Paris 

As to what has been said before concerning butchers’ 
meat and poultry, the King’s household consumeth in 
butchers’ meat weekly at least 120 sheep, 16 oxen, 
16 calves and 12 pigs ; and 200 salted porks a year. 

In poultry daily, 600 chickens, 200 pairs of pigeons, 
50 kids and 50 goslings. 

The Queen and the children. Butchery, weekly, 
80 sheep, 12 calves, 12 oxen, 12 pigs; and 120 salted 
porks a year. In poultry daily, 300 chickens, 36 kids, 
150 pairs of pigeons and 36 goslings. 

[The Duke of] Orleans likewise. [The Duke of] 
Berry likewise. 

Monseigneur de Berry’s folk say that on Sundays 
and great feasts they require 3 oxen, 30 sheep, 160 
dozen of partridges and coneys in proportion, but I 
doubt it. — Since verified. — And certainly ’tis so on 
divers great feafts, Sundays and Thursdays, but moft 
commonly on the other days ’tis 2 oxen and 20 
sheep . — Note again that at the court of monseigneur 
de Berry the varlets and pages have livery of the ox 
cheeks, and the muzzle of the ox is carved asunder, 
and the mandibles be left for the livery, as is aforesaid. 
Item, the neck of the ox is also given in livery to the 
aforesaid varlets. Item , and that which cometh next 
to the neck is the bell; part of the beef, for that which 
is betwixt the front legs is the breast and that which 
is above is the shoulder. 

[The Duke of] Burgundy [is] to the King as Paris 
money is to money of Tournai. 1 [The Duke of] 
Bourbon’s household uses half as much as the Queen’s- 

Item, without spending or paying out your money 
every day you may send mailer Jehan to the butcher 
and order meat by tally. 


f fr*A i! 


I face p. 222 

How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

After these things it behoveth to tell and speak of 
certain general terms that be used in the feat of 
cookery, and afterwards to show how you may know 
and choose the viands wherewith the cook worketh, as 
followeth : 

Primo, in all sausages and thick pottages, wherein 
spices and bread be brayed, you should firSt bray the 
spices and take them out of the mortar, because the 
bread which you bray afterwards requires that which 
remaineth from the spices ; thus naught is loll that 
would be loft if ’twere done otherwise. 

Item, spices and bindings put into pottages ought 
not to be drained ; nathless do so for sauces, that the 
sauces may be clearer and likewise the more pleasant. 

Item, wot you well that pea or bean pottages or others 
burn easily, if the burning brands touch the bottom 
of the pot when it is on the fire. Item, before your 
pottage burns and in order that it burn not, Stir it 
often in the bottom of the pot, and turn your spoon 
in the bottom so that the pottage may not take hold 
there. And note as soon as thou shalt perceive that 
thy pottage burneth, move it not, but straightway take 
it off the fire and put it in another pot. 

Item, note that commonly all pottages that be on the 
fire boil over, and fall onto the said fire, until salt and 
grease be put into the pot, and afterwards they do 
not so. 

Item, note that the beft caudle there is, is beef’s 
cheek washed twice in water, then boiled and well 

Item, one may know whether a coney be fatted, by 
feeling his sinew or neck betwixt the two shoulders 


The Goodman of Paris 

for there you may tell if there be much fat by the big 
sinew ; and you can tell if he be tender by breaking 
one of his back legs. 

Item, note that there is a difference among cooks 
between “ flicking” and “larding”, for flicking is done 
with cloves and larding with bacon-lard. 

Item, in pike the soft-roed are better than the hard, 
save when you would make rissoles thereof, for rissoles 
be made of the hard roes, ut fiatet in tabula. Of pike 
one speaketh of a hurling pike, a pickerel, a pike, a 
luce. 1 

Item, fresh shad cometh into season in March. 

Item, carp should be very well cooked, or otherwise 
it is dangerous to eat it. 

Item, plaice be soft to the touch and dab the 

Item, at Paris the cooks of roaftmeat fatten their 
geese with flour, neither the fine flour nor the bran, 
but that which is between the two which is called the 
pollen ; and as much of this pollen as they take, they 
mix an equal amount of oatmeal therewith, and mix 
with a little water, and it remaineth of the thickness 
of pa fie, and they put this food in a dish on four feet, 
and water beside and fresh litter everyday, and in 
fifteen days [the geese] be fatted. And note that their 
litter maketh them to keep their feathers clean. 

Item, to give the flavour of game to capons and hens, 
it behoveth to bleed them by cutting their throats and 
ftraightway put them and cause them to die in a bucket 
of very cold water, and they will be as high on the same 
day as though two days killed. 

Item, you may tell young mallards from old ones, 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

when they be the same size, from the quills of the 
feathers, which be tenderer in the young birds than in 
the old. Item , you may tell the river mallard, because 
they have sharp black nails and they have also red feet 
and the farmyard ducks have them yellow. Item, they 
have the creft or upper part of the beak green all 
along, and sometimes the males have a white mark 
across the nape of the neck, and they have the creft 
feathers very wavy. 

Item , Ring doves be good in winter and you may tell 
the old ones for that the mid-feathers of their wings 
be all of a black hue, and the young ones of a year 
old have the mid-feathers ash coloured and the reft 

Item , you may know the age of a hare from the 
number of holes that be beneath the tail, for so many 
holes, so many years. 

Item , the partridges whose feathers be close set and 
well joined to the flesh, and be orderly and well joined, 
as are the feathers of a hawk, these be fresh killed ; 
and those whose feathers be ruffled the wrong w*ay and 
come easily out of the flesh and be out of place and 
ruffled disorderly this way and that, they be long killed. 
Item , you may feel it by pulling the feathers of the 

Item , the carp which hath white scales and neither 
yellow nor reddish, is from good water. That which 
hath big eyes ftanding forth from the head and palate 
and tongue joined, is fat. And note if you would 
carry a carp alive the whole day, wrap it up in damp 
hay and carry it belly upmoft, and carry it without 
giving it air, in a cask or bag. 



The Goodman of Paris 

The season for trout begins in [blank] and lasts until 
September. The white trout be good in winter, and 
the red [salmon-]trout in summer. The besl: part of 
the trout is the tail and of the carp it is the head. 

Item , the eel which hath a small head, loose mouth, 
shining skin, undulating and glistening, small eyes, big 
body and white belly, is fresh . 1 The other has a big 
head, yellow belly and thick brown skin. 

Hereafter follow divers dinners and suppers of great 
lords and others and notes, whereupon you may choose, 
collect and learn whatsoever dishes it shall please you, 
according to the seasons and to the meats which are 
native to the place where you may be, when you have 
to give a dinner or a supper. 

I. Dinner for a Meat Day served in Thirty-one Dishes 
and Six Courses. 

Fir ft course. [Wine of] Grenache 1 and roafts, veal 
parties, pimpernel 3 pa Sties, black-puddings and 

Second course. Hares in civey 4 and cutlets, pea 
soup \}it.. Strained peas], salt meat and great joints 
(grosse char), a soringue of eels 5 and other fish. 

Third course. RoaSt : coneys, partridges, capons 
etc., luce, bar, carp 6 and a quartered pottage . 7 

Fourth course. River fish a la dodine , 8 savoury 
rice , 9 a bourrey 10 with hot sauce and eels reversed . 11 

Fifth course. Lark paSties, rissoles, larded milk,” 
sugared flawns . 13 

Sixth course. Pears and comfits, medlars and peeled 
nuts. Hippocras 14 and wafers. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

II. Another Meat Dinner of Tzcenty-four Dishes in 
Six Courses. 

First course. Pasties of veal well minced with fat 
and marrow of beef, pimpernel parties, black puddings , 1 
sausages , 2 scuffed straws {pipe farces)' and Norwegian 
pasties . 4 

Second course. Hares in civey and eel broth ; bean 
soup \lit., Strained beans], salt meat, great joints, to 
wit beef and mutton. 

Third course. Capons, coneys, veal and partridges, 
fresh and salt-water fish, some taillis 5 with glazed 
meats . 6 

Fourth course. River mallard a la dodine, tench 
with sops 7 and bourreys with hot sauce, fatted capon 
paSties, with gravy* of the fat and parsley. 

Fifth course. A larded broth, savoury rice, eels 
reversed, some roaSt sea or freshwater fish, crisps 9 and 
old sugar. 

The sixth and laft course for Issue. Sugared flawns 
and larded milk, peeled nuts, cooked pears and comfits. 
Hippocras and wafers. 

III. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firft course. Beef parties and rissoles, black puree, 
lampreys with cold sage , 10 a meat brewet of Almaign , 11 
a white fish sauce and a herbolace , 12 great joints of beef 
and mutton. 

Second course. Freshwater fish, saltwater fish, a 
meat cretonnee , 13 raniolles , 14 a rosee 15 of young rabbits 
and bourreys with hot sauce, Pisan bird tarts (i.e. Pisa 
in Lombardy and they be called Lombard tarts and 


The Goodman of Paris 

there are little birds in the Stuffing and henceforth in 
divers places they be called Lombard tarts). 

Third course. Tench with sops, blankmanger 1 
decorated, larded milk, croutes, boar’s tail 2 with hot 
sauce, bream and salmon parties, boiled plaice and 
leches fried [fritters ] 3 and darioles . 4 

Fourth course. Frumenty , 3 venison, roaft fish, 
cold sage, eels reversed, fish jellies, capon parties with 
hafty gravy . 6 

IF. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firft course. Norwegian pa flies , 7 a cameline 8 
meat brewet, beef marrow fritters, soringue of eels, 
loach in water and cold sage, great joints and salt- 
water fish. 

Second course. The beft roaft that may be had and 
freshwater fish, a larded broth, a meat tile , 9 capon 
pafties and crisps, bream and eel pafties and blank- 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, lamprey with 
hot sauce, leches fried, roaft bream and darioles, 
fturgeon and jelly. 

V. Another Meat Dinner. 

Fir ft course. Beef and marrow pafties, hare in 
civey, great joints, a white coney brewet , 10 capons and 
venison with sops, white porray , 11 turnips, salt ducks 
and chines. 

Second course. The beft roaft, etc., a rosee of 
larks, a blankmanger, umbles 12 and boar’s tail with hot 
pauce, fat capon pafties, fritters and Norwegian pafties. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, various sorts of 
glazed meats, fat geese and capons a la dodine, cream 
darioles and leches fried and sugared, bourreys of hot 
galentine , 1 capon jelly , 2 coneys, young chickens, rabbits 
and piglings. 

Fourth course. Hippocras and wafers for Issue. 

VI. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firlk course. Frizzled beans , 3 a cinnamon brewet , 4 
a hare in black civey, a green eel brewet, red herring, 
great joints, turnips, tench with sops, salt geese and 
chines, rissoles of beef marrow, halkelettes of beef. s 

Second course. The belk roa Ik that may be had, 
fresh and salt water fish, boiled plaice, bourreys with 
hot sauce such as lampreys, a gravy 6 of shad the colour 
of peach blossom, a party blankmanger , 7 Lombard 
tarts, pa Ikies of venison and small birds, Spanish 
cretonnee, fresh herring. 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, glazed meats, 
fish jellies, fat capons a a dodine, fish roalk, leches fried 
and darioles, eels reversed, crayfish, crisps and Huffed 

VII. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firlk course. White porray, beef halkelettes, great 
joints, veal in civey, some garnished (houssie) brewet.® 

Second course. Roalk meat, salt and freshwater 
fish, Lombard raniolles, a Spanish cretonnee. 

Third course. Lampreys, shad, a rosee, larded milk 
and [sugared] croutes in milk, Pisan i.e. Lombard tarts, 
cream darioles. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Fourth course. Frumenty venison, glazed meats, 
bream and gurnard pa sties, eels reversed, fat capons a 
la dodine. 

Issue is hippocras and wafers. — Sally Forth ,'Boute- 
hors) : wine and spices. 

VIII. Another Meat Dinner. 

First course. Great joints, Norwegian parties, beef 
marrow fritters, cameline meat brewet, soringue of 
eels, loach in water, saltwater fish and cold sage. 

Second course. The beft roaft that may be had, 
freshwater fish, a meat tile, goat’s flesh boiled and 
larded, capon parties, bream and eel parties and blank- 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, glazed meats, 
lampreys with hot sauce, leches fried and darioles, 
roaft bream, broth with verjuice, sturgeon and jelly. 

IX. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firft course. White leeks, beef parties, ducks and 
chines, hares and coneys in civey, a gene fie 1 of larks, 
great joints. 

Second course. Roa st ; boar’s tail with hot sauce, 
a party blankmanger, goose dodines, larded milk and 
[sugared] croutes, venison, glazed meats, jellies, 
[sugared] crufts in milk a la dodine, capon pafties, 
cold sage, cow’s flesh pafties and talemouse . 3 

X. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firft course. Pea soup, herrings, salted eels, oyfters 
in black civey, an almond brewet, a tile, a broth of 
pike and eels, a cretonnee, a green brewet of eels, 
silver pafties . 3 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Second course. Seawater and freshwater fish, bream 
and salmon paslies, eels reversed, a brown herbolace, 
tench with larded broth, a blankmanger, crisps, 
lettuces, losenges, oriilettes 1 and Norwegian pa flies, 
farced luce and salmon. 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, glazed pom- 
meaulx, 2 Spanish pulfs and chaslletes, 3 a roaft of fish, 
jelly, lampreys, congers and turbot with green sauce, 4 
leches fried, darioles and a great entremet. 

XI. Another Dinner. 

Firft course. Beef parties and rissoles, black porray, 5 
lamprey gravy, a meat brewet of Almaign, a meat 
brewet garnished (george), 6 a white fish sauce, a 

Second course. Roaft meat, saltwater and fresh- 
water fish, raniolles, a rosee of little rabbits and birds, 
bourreys with hot sauce, Pisan tarts. 

Third course. Tench with sops, a party blank- 
manger, larded milk and [sugared] croutes, boar’s tails 
with hot sauce, capons a la dodine, bream and salmon 
parties, plaice in water, leches fried and darioles. 

Fourth course. Frumenty, venison, glazed meats, a 
fish roaft, cold sage, eels reversed, fish jelly, capon 
pa flies. 

XII. Another Dinner. 

Fir ft course. Frizzled beans, a cinnamon brewet, 
hare in black civey, or a green brewet of eels, red 
herrings, great joints, turnips, tench with sops, salt 
geese and chines, rissoles of beef marrow. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Second course. The best roaft that ma y be had, 
fresh and saltwater fish, plaice in water, bourreys with 
hot sauce, a gravy of shad the colour of peach blossom, 
party blankmanger, Lombard tarts, parties of venison 
and small birds, Spanish cretonnee, fresh herrings. 

Third course. Frumenty, venison, glazed meats, 
fish jelly, fat capons k la dodine, a fish roaft, leches fried 
and darioles, eels reversed, crayfish, crisps and fluffed 

XIII. Another Meat Dinner. 

Firft course. A brewet of Almaign, cabbages, a 
soringue of eels, turnips, beef parties, great joints. 

Second course. The be ft roaft that may be had, 
fatted ducks a la dodine, freshwater fish, blankmanger, 
a herbolace, Norwegian pa flies, crisps, larded milk, 
milk tarts. 

Third course. Capon parties a la dodine, savoury 
rice, boar’s tail with cold sauce, leches fried and 
sugared darioles. 

Fourth course. Frumenty, venison, glazed meats, 
eels reversed and a roaft of breams. 

The boar’s head for the entremet. 

XIV. Another Meat Dinner. 

Fir ft course. White leeks with capons, duck with 
chines and roaft chitterlings, leches of beef and mutton, 
a garnished brewet (george) of hares, veals and coneys. 

Second course. Capons, partridges, coneys, plovers, 
farced pigs, 1 pheasants for lords, fish and meat jelly. 

Entremet borne on high : swan,* peacocks, bitterns, 
herons and other things. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Issue. Venison, savoury rice, capon pafties, cream 
flawns, darioles, eels reversed, fruit, wafers, eslriers 1 and 

XV. Another Dinner in Twenty-jour Dishes in Three 


Fir£t course. Pea soup, salted eels and herrings, 
leeks with almonds, great joints, a yellow brewet , 3 a 
salemine,* saltwater fish, oyfters in civey. 

Second course. Roaft freshwater and saltwater fish, 
a Savoy brewet , 5 a larded brewet of skinned eels. 

Third course. Roaft breams, galentine, chine, 
peregrine capons , 6 jelly, party blankmanger, boiled 
plaice, turbot a la soucie, cream darioles, lampreys with 
hot sauce, glazed meats, savoury rice, etc. 


XVI. Meat Supper in Four Courses. 

Firft course. Seyme , 7 pullet aux herbes, brewet of 
verjuice and poultry, an espinbesche 8 of meat boiled 
and larded, pickerells and loach in water, salted roach 
and chaftelongnes? 

Second course. The be£t roaft that may be had of 
meat and fish, and titbits of parsley and vinegar, 
galentine of fish, a white sauce on fish and meat livers. 

Third course. Capon parties, biscuit” of pike and 
eels, lettuces, and a herbolace, fish, crisps and ftuffed 

Fourth course. Jelly, crayfish, plaice in water, 
whitebait and cold sage, umbles with hot sauce, parties 
of cow’s flesh and talemouses. Pottage for an Issue, 
called jelly. 


The Goodman of Paris 
X VII. Another Meat Supper. 

Firft course. Capons aux herbes, a comminee, 1 peas 
daguenets, 4 loach au jaunel, 3 venison with sops. 

Second course. The best roast that may be had, 
jelly, party blankmanger, cream flawns well sugared. 

Third course. Capon parties, cold sages, stuffed 
shoulder of mutton, pickerells a un rebouly, 4 venison a 
la boar’s tail, crayfish. 

XV 111. Another Meat Supper. 

FirsF course. Three sorts of pottage, capons whole 
in white brewet, a chawdon of salmon, 5 venison with 
sops, loach with sliced eels thereon. 

Second course. Roaft capons, coneys, partridges, 
plovers, blackbirds, small birds, kids ; a blankmanger 
standing, etc. ; luce, carp and bar, etc. ; eels reversed 
— Pheasants and swans as entremets. 

Third course. Venison a la frumenty, parties of 
doves and larks, tarts, 6 crayfish, fresh herring, fruit, 
clarry, pastries, 7 medlars, pears, peeled nuts. 

XIX. A Fish Dinner for Lent. 

Firft course and service. Cooked apples, large 
Provencal figs roaft, with bayleaves thereon, cress and 
sorrel with vinegar, pea soup, salted eels, white herring, 
gravy on fried salt and freshwater fish. 

Second course. Carp, luce, soles, roach, salmon, 

XX. Another Fish Dinner for Lent. 

Fir ft course. Cooked apples, etc., as above. 

Second course. Carp, luce, soles, roach, salmon, eels 
reversed a la boe (i.e. with thick sauce) 8 and a herbolace. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Third course. Roast pimpernels, fried whiting, 
powdered porpoise with water and frumenty, crisps 
and Norwegian pasties. 

Issue. Figs and raisins, hippocras and wafers as 

XXI. Another Fish Dinner. 

First: course. Pea soup, puree, civey of oysters, 
white sauce of broach and perch, a cress porray, 
herrings, salted whale , 1 salted eels, loach in water. 

Second course. Fresh and saltwater fish, turbot a 
la soucie, taillis, a biscuit, eels in galentine. 

Third course. The faireft and beft roast that may 
be had, white parties, loach au waymel, crayfish, 
perches with parsley and vinegar, tench with sops, 

XXII. Another Fish Dinner. 

Fir ft course. Pea soup, herrings, puree, salted eels, 
oyfters, a salemine of broach and carp. 

Second course. Freshwater fish, a soringue of eels, 
Norwegian pafties and party blankmanger, a herbolace, 
pafties, fritters. 

Third course. The beft roaft, etc., savoury rice, 
tarts, leches fried and darioles, salmon and bream 
pafties, a chawdon. 

Fourth course, Taillis, crisps, ftuffed ftraws, 
skirrit roots, fried pike, glazed dishes, congers and turnip 
au soucie, Lombard tarts, eels reversed. 

XXIII. Another Fish Dinner. 

Firft course. Cooked apples, ripe figs, [wine of] 
Grenache, cress and pennyroyal, pea soup, chad, 


The Goodman of Paris 

salted eels, herrings and salted whale, white brewet on. 
perches and cuttle fish in a gravy on fritters. 

Second course. The bell freshwater fish that can 
be found and saltwater fish, skinned eels, bourreys with 
hot sauce, tench with sops, crayfish, pa Hies of bream 
and plaice in water. 

Third course. Frumenty of porpoise, Norwegian 
pa Hies and roaH mackerel, roaH pimpernels and 
crisps, oyHers, fried cuttle fish, with a biscuit of 

XXIV . Another Fish Dinner. 

FirH course. Pea soup, herring, salt eels, a black 
civey of oyHers, an almond brewet, a tile, a broth of 
broach and eels, a cretonnee, a green brewet of eels, 
silver paHies. 

Second course. Salt and freshwater fish, bream and 
salmon paHies, eels reversed, a brown herbolace, tench 
with a larded broth, a blankmanger, crisps, lettuces, 
losenges, orillettes, and Norwegian paHies, Huffed luce 
and salmon. 

Third course. Porpoise frumenty, glazed pomme- 
aulx, Spanish puffs and chaHelettes, roaH fish, jelly, 
lampreys, congers and turbot with green sauce, breams 
with verjuice, leches fried, darioles and entremet. 
Then Dessert, Issue and Sally-Forth. 

Hereinafter follow divers incidents likewise appertaining 
to the same matter. 

The arrangements which M. [the abbe] de Lagny 
made for the dinner which he gave to Monseigneur de 
Paris, the President, the Procureur and the Avocat du 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Roy and the rest of the Council 1 amounting to eight 
covers [i.e. sixteen persons] 3 

First preparation of tablecloths, vessels for the 
dining hall and the kitchen, branches, greenstuff to set 
on the table, ewer sand hanaps 3 with feet, two comfit 
dishes silver salt cellars, bread two days old for toaft 
and trenchers . 4 For the kitchen : two large pails, two 
washing tubs and two brooms. 

Note, that Monseigneur de Paris had three esquires 
of his own to serve him and he was served apart with 
covered dishes. And Monseigneur the President had 
one esquire and was served apart, but not with covered 
dishes. Item, at the bidding of Monseigneur the 
President, the Procureur du Roi was seated above the 
Avocat du Roi. 

The courses and dishes follow : two quarts of [wine 
of] Grenache, to wit [allowing] two persons to the 
half -pint (but that is too much, for a half-pint between 
three suffices, and let the seconds 5 have some). Hot 
cracknels and ruddy apples 6 roalt with white comfits 
thereon, a quarter lb. ; ripe figs roaft, five quarters ; 
sorrell, cress and rosemary. 

Pottages, to wit a salemine of six salmon 7 and six 
tench, green porray 8 and white herring, a quarter [lb.] ; 
six freshwater eels salted the day before, and three 
stockfish soaked for a night. 

For the pottages : almonds, 6 lbs. ; ginger powder 
i lb. ; saffron -§ oz. ; small spices, 2 oz. ; cinnamon 
powder, f lb. ; comfits, f- lb. 

Sea fish : soles, gurnard, congers, turbot, salmon. 
Freshwater fish. ; luce, two Marne carps, bream. 

Entremets : plaice, lamprey a la boe. Roaft : and 


The Goodman of Paris 

more towels be needed and likewise sixteen oranges, 
porpoise in its sauce, mackerel, soles, bream, chad 
a la cameline, or with verjuice, rice with fried 
almonds thereon ; sugar for rice and apples, I lb. ; 
little napkins. 

For dessert : compost 1 with white and red comfits 
spread thereon; rissoles, flawns, figs, dates, raisins, 

Hippocras and wafers are the issue. Hippocras two 
quarts (and this is too much, as is aforesaid concerning 
the [wine of] Grenache), two hundred wafers and suppli- 
cations. And note that for each cover one allows eight 
wafers, four supplications and four esiriers and that is 
generous allowance ; and the coft thereof is 8d. per 

Wine and spices are the Sally-Forth. Wash, grace 
and go to the withdrawing room ; and then the 
servants dine and immediately afterwards [serve] wine 
and spices ; and so farewell. 

The arrangements for the wedding feast that master 
Helye shall give on a Tuesday in May ; a dinner only 
for twenty covers [i.e. 40 persons]. 

Service : Butter, none, because it is a feast day. 
Item, cherries, none, because none were to be had; 
and for this course nought. 

Pottages : Capons with blankmanger, pomegranates 
and red comfits thereon. 

Roaft : On each dish a quarter of a kid ; a quarter 
of kid is better than lamb ; a duckling, two spring 
chickens and sauce thereto ; oranges, cameline, verjuice 
and fresh towel? and napkins therewith. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Entremets : crayfish jelly, loach, young rabbits and 
pigs. Dessert : frument and venison. Issue : 
Hippocras and wafers. Sally-Forth : wine and spices. 

The ordering of the supper that is to be had on the 
same day is thus for ten covers [twenty persons] : 

Cold sage of the halves of chickens, little ducklings, 
and a vinaigrette 1 of the same meats for the said supper 
in a dish. A pasly of two young hares and two peacocks 
(although some say that at the bridals of free folk 
there ought to be darioles), and in another dish minced 
kids with the heads halved and glazed. 

Entremets : jelly as above. Issue : apples and 
cheese without hippocras, because it is out of season. 

Dancing, singing, wine and spices, and torches for 

Now it behoveth [to set down] the quantity of the 
things abovesaid and their appurtenances and the 
price thereof and who shall purvey and bargain for 

From the baker, ten dozen flat white loaves, baked 
the day before and for a penny piece. 

Trencher bread, three dozens, half a foot wide and 
four inches high, baked four days before and let it be 
brown, or let Corbeil bread be got from the market. 

Wine cellar : three cauldrons of wine. 

From the butcher, half a mutton, to make sops 2 for 
the guefts and a quarter of bacon to lard them ; the 
mafter bone of a leg of beef to cook with the capons, 
so as to have the broth to make blankmanger ; a fore- 
quarter of veal to serve for blankmanger. The seconds 
a hind quarter of veal or calves feet, to have liquid for 
the jelly. Venison, a foot quartered. 


The Goodman of Paris 

From the wafer-maker 1 it behoves to order : firfr, 
for the bride’s service, a dozen and a half of cheese 
gauffres, 3s. ; a dozen and a half of gros batons , 6s. ; 
a dozen and a half of portcs, i8d. ; a dozen and a half 
of e Priors , l8d. ; a hundred sugared gaieties, 8d. 

Item it was bargained with him [that he should 
provide for] twenty covers for the wedding dinner and 
six covers for the servants and that he should have 6d. 
per cover and serve each cover with eight wafers, four 
supplications and four esiriers. 

From the poulterer, twenty capons at 2s. Parisis 
[i.e. Paris money] apiece ; five kids, 4s. Parisis ; twenty 
ducklings, 3s. Parisis apiece ; fifty chickens, r 2d. Parisis 
apiece ; that is to wit forty roafts for the dinner, five 
for the jelly and five at supper for the cold sage. 
Fifty young rabbits, to wit forty for the dinner, which 
shall be roasi, and ten for the jelly and they shall coft 
I2d. Parisis apiece. A lean pig for the jelly, 4d. 
Parisis ; twelve pairs of pigeons for the supper, iod. 
Paris the pair. — (It behoves to ask him concerning the 

In the market, bread for trenchers, 3 dozen [loaves.] 
Pomegranates for blankmanger three, which will cofl 
[blank]. Oranges, fifty, which will coft [blank]. Six 
green cheeses and one old cheese and three hundred 


And wot you that each cheese should furnish six 
tartlets and also three eggs mufi be allowed to each 

Sorrel to make verjuice for the chickens, sage and 
parsley to make the cold sage, two hundred blaundrel 
apples. 1 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Two brooms and a pail for the kitchen and some 

From the saucemaker, three half pints of cameline 
for dinner and supper and a quart of sorrel verjuice. 

From the spicer, ten lbs. of almonds, I4d. the lb. — 
Three lbs. of hulled corn, 8d. the lb. — One lb. of 
powdered colombine ginger 1 , 5s. — Half a lb. of ground 
cinnamon, 5s. — 2 lbs. of ground rice, 2$. — 2 lbs. of 
lump sugar, 16s. — One oz. of saffron, 3s. — A quarter 
[lb.] of cloves and grain [of Paradise] mixed, 6s. — Half 
a qr. of long pepper, 4s. — Half a qr. of galingale, 5s. — 
Half a qr. of mace, 3s. 4d. — Half a qr. of green bay 
leaves, 6d. — 2 lbs. of large and small candles, 3s. 4d. 
the lb., which amounteth to 6s. 8d. — Torches of 3 lbs. 
apiece, six ; flambeaux of I lb. apiece, six ; to wit, 
3s. a lb. when purchased and the ends to be taken back 
at 6d. less per lb. 

From him spices for the chamber, to wit candied 
orange peel, I lb., 10s. — Citron, 1 lb., 12s. — Red anise, 
1 lb., 8s. — Rose-sugar 2 , 1 lb., 2s. — White comfits, 3 lbs., 
10s. the lb. — From him hippocras, 3 quarts, 10s. the 
quart, and he will find all. 

Sum total of this spicery came to twelve francs, 
counting what was burnt of the torches, and little was 
left of the spices ; thus half a franc can be allowed per 

At the Pierre-au-Lait [milk market] a setter of good 
milk, neither curdled nor watered, to make frumenty. 

In the [Place de] Greve, a hundred Burgundy 
faggots, 13s. ; two sacks of coal, 10s. 

At the Porte-de-Paris : branches, greenery, violets, 
chaplets, a quart of white salt, a quart of coarse salt, 



The Goodman of Paris 

a hundred crayfish, a half pint of loach, two earthen- 
ware pots, one of a setter for the jelly, the other of 
two quarts for the cameline. 

Now have we first the service in general and secondly 
where the things be to be found. Now behoveth it, 
thirdly, to know the ordainers and officers needful 

Firit, there is needed a clerk or varlet to purchase 
greenery, violets, chaplets, milk, cheese, eggs, logs, coal, 
salt, vats and washing tubs both for the dining hall and 
for the butteries, verjuice, vinegar, sorrel, sage, parsley, 
fresh garlic, two brooms, a shovel and other small 

Item, a cook and his varlets, who will coffc two francs 
in wages without other perquisites, but the cook will 
pay varlets and porters, and there is a saying “ the more 
covers, the more wages ”. 

Item, two knife-bearers, whereof one is to cut up 
bread and make trenchers and saltcellars of bread and 
they shall carry the salt and the bread and the trenchers 
to the tables and shall make for the hall two or three 
receptacles, wherein to throw the large scraps, such as 
sops, cut or broken bread, trenchers, pieces of meat and 
other things ; and two buckets for casting away and 
receiving broth, sauce and liquid things. 

Item, one or two water-carriers be needed. Item, a 
big and sdrong sergent to guard the portals. 

Item, two esquires of the kitchen and two helpers 
for the service of the kitchen, one of whom shall go 
bargain for the kitchen things, pasbry and linen for six 
tables ; for the which there be needed two large copper 
pots for twenty covers, two boilers, four strainers, a 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

mortar and a pestle, six large cloths for the kitchen, 
three large earthenware pots for wine, a large earthen- 
ware pot for pottage, four wooden basins and spoons, 
an iron pan, four large pails with handles, two trivets 
and an iron spoon. And he shall likewise purvey the 
pewter vessels ; to wit ten dozen bowls, six dozen 
small dishes, two dozen and a half large dishes, eight 
quart [pots], two dozen pint [pots], two almsdishes 1 . 

Item concerning the house ; wherein be it known 
that the hotel de Beauvais 3 cold jehan du Chesne 3 four 
francs ; tables, trebles et similia five francs ; and the 
chaplets co£b him fifteen francs. 

And the other esquire of the kitchen or his helper 
shall go with the cook to the butcher, the poulterer, 
the spicer, etc., to purvey and choose the things, have 
them borne home and pay for the carriage thereof ; 
and they shall have a hutch shutting with a key, 
wherein they shall keep the spices etc., and they shall 
distribute all things according to reason and measure. 
And afterwards they or their helpers shall gather up 
that which remaineth and put it away safely in baskets 
in a closed hutch, to prevent wa£te and excess by the 

Two other esquires be needed for the service of the 
dining hall, and they shall give out spoons and colleft 
them again, give out hanaps, pour out whichsoever wine 
be asked for by the guests at table and collect! the vessels 

Two other esquires be needed for the wine cellar, 
who shall give out wine to be carried to the dresser, 
the tables and elsewhere, and they shall have a varlet 
to draw the wine. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Two of the most ho n eft and skilled [esquires] shall 
accompany the bridegroom and shall go with him before 
the dishes. 

Two ftewards to seat the guefts and make them rise, 
and a sewer 1 and two servants for each table, who shall 
serve and take away, throw the remnants into the 
baskets and the sauces and broths into the buckets and 
pails and receive and bring the dessert dishes to the 
esquires of the kitchen or others that be ordained to 
keep them and they shall carry nought elsewhere. 

The office of fteward is to purvey saltcellars for the 
high table ; hanaps, four dozen ; covered gilt goblets, 
four; ewers, six; silver spoons, four dozen ; silver 
quart [pots], four ; alms dishes, two ; comfit dishes, 

A woman chaplet-maker, who shall deliver garlands 
on the wedding eve and on the wedding day. 

The office of the women is to make provision of 
tapeftries, to order and spread them and in especial to 
dight the chamber and the bed that is to be blessed.* 

A laundress for folding [? sheets]. 

And note that if the bed be covered with cloth, there 
is needed a fur coverlet of half vair ; but if it be 
covered with serge, embroidery, or counterpane of 
sendal, not so. 

The arrangements for the Hautecourt 3 wedding, for 
twenty covers [i.e. 40 persons] in the month of 

Service : raisins and peaches or little pafties. 

Pottages : civey, four hares and a veal ; or for 
blankmanger, twenty capons, 2s. 4d. apiece, or pullets. 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

Roast : five pigs, twenty young capons, 2S. 4<i. 
apiece ; forty partridges, 2s. 4 d. apiece. Mortrews 1 
or [line blank in J/S.]. 

Jelly: ten chickens, I2d. ; ten young rabbits, one 
pig ; crayfish, a hundred and a half. 

Frumenty, venison, pears and nuts. Note that for 
the frumenty three hundred eggs be needed. 

Tartlets and other things, hippocras and wafers, 
wine and spices. 

Supper. — Gravy of twelve dozen small birds or ten 
ducks, or a larded broth of fresh venison. Parties of 
forty young hares, twenty chickens, forty pigeons ; 
forty darioles or sixty tartlets. 

Nota that three small birds to a cover sufficeth ; 
nathless when one has capon gizzards vel similia , one 
allows three small birds and half a gizzard therewith 
to a cover. 

The Quantity of the Things Aforesaid. 

From the baker, ut supra concerning the preceding 
wedding [feaft]. 

From the paftrymaker, ut supra. 

Wine cellar, ut supra. 

From the butcher, three quarters of mutton to make 
the sops for the guests, a quarter of bacon for larding, a 
forequarter of veal for the blankmanger ; for the 
servants, venison. 

From the wafer maker, a dozen and a half of ready- 
made cheese wafers, to wit made of flour kneaded with 
eggs and leches of cheese rolled therein, and eighteen 
other wafers kneaded with eggs and without cheese. 
Item, a dozen and a half of gros ballons, to wit flour 
kneaded with eggs and ginger powder beaten in with 

The Goodman of Paris 

it and made in the shape and size of a chitterling, and 
then set between two irons on the fire, Item , a dozen 
and a half of other ballons and as many fortes . 

Item,on the aforesaid wedding eve behoveth it to send 
(over and above the things that be made by the afore- 
said wafer-maker) fifty blaundrell apples, the chaplets 
and the minstrels. 

Item, from the aforesaid wafer-maker, the provision 
for the wedding day, ut supra concerning the preceding 

From the poulterer, the roafts, poultry and venison, 
ut supra. 

In the market at the Porte-de-Paris the things 
appertaining thereto, ut supra. 

From the sauce-maker, a quart of cameline for the 
dinner and for the supper two quarts of mustard. 

From the spicer, spices for the chamber : comfits, 
rose-sugar, sugared nuts, citron and manus-cbriHi 1 ; 
four lbs. in all. Item , hippocras. Kitchen spices : 
white powder, I lb. ; fine powder, lb. ; cinnamon 
powder, i lb. for blankmanger. Small spices, 2 oz. 
Lump sugar, 3 lbs. ; three pomegranates ; white and 
red comfits, f lb. ; almonds, 6 lbs. ; flour of rice, I lb. ; 
a quart of hulled wheat. 

From the wax chandler were bought torches and 
flambeaux at 3s. the lb., and at 2s. 6d. for the returned 

Item , for the hire of linen, to wit, for six tables, 
three large copper pots, for sixteen bowls, two boilers, 
two strainers, a mortar, a peftle, six large cloths for the 
kitchen, three large earthenware pots for wine, a large 
earthenware pot for pottage, four basins, four wooden 


How to Order Dinners and Suppers 

spoons, an iron pan, four large pails with handles, two 
trivets and a spoon of pierced iron ; for this 56s. 

Pewter vessels : ten dozen bowls, six dozen small 
dishes, two dozen and a half large dishes, eight quart 
[pots], two dozen pint [pots], two alms dishes ; for all 
this 1 6s. 

In [the Place de] Greve ut supra concerning the 
other wedding. 

Note that because they w r ere widowed they were 
wedded in the early morn in their black robes and then 
put on others. 

Note concerning the extra payments for Jehan du 
Chesne’s wedding. To the cook 44 francs and helpers 
and porters 1 franc ; in all 54 francs. To the concierge 
of Beauvais, 4 francs ; for tables, trebles, et similia , 
5 francs. To the chaplet maker, 15 francs. Water, 
20s. Minstrels 8 francs, without the spoons and other 
gratuities ; and they will play on the wedding eve 
and the acrobats [likewise]. Sergents, 2 francs. 
Greenery, 8s. Flambeaux and torches, 10 francs. 
Kitchen vessels, cloths, towels and glasses, 7 francs. 
Pewter pots, 4 francs. 

The Fifth Article 

The uihich telleth of ordering, devising and causing to be made ali manner 
of pottages, civeys, sauces and all other viands 1 

Now behoveth it to show how to prepare the viands 
named above, but fir ft it behoves thee to know divers 
general terms, the which thou mays colleft more fully 
by means of certain additions thereto, that be here 
and there throughout this book, to wit concerning 
binding for pottages, as bread, eggs, amidon, flour, etc., 
and throughout the thick soups. 

Item, to prevent thy pottage from burning, thou muft 
move it in the bottom of the pot and look that the 
logs touch not the bottom and if already it have begun 
to burn, thou muft forthwith change it into another 

Item to keep milk from turning. 

Item that the pot boil not over onto the fire. 

Into pottages the spices should be put very well 
brayed and not ftrained and at the laft moment. In 
sauces and in jelly the contrary. 

Item, To Kill Pigs. It is said that the males 
should be killed in the month of November, and the 
females in December ; and such is their season, and 
for example we speak of “ a shrovetide hen ” . 

Item, to make black puddings, have the blood of a 
pig collefted into a fair basin or pan, and when you 
have had your pigling cleaned out and the haslet very 


How to Prepare Viands 

well washed and set to cook, and while it is cooking, 
do you take the clots of blood out of the bottom of the 
basin and throw them away ; and afterwards have 
onions peeled and minced to the amount of half the 
blood, with half of the fat which is betwixt the intestines, 
minced as small as dice, together with a little brayed 
salt, and put it into the blood. Then take ginger, 
cloves and a little pepper and bray all together. Then 
take the small intestines, wash them well, reverse them 
and wring them out in running water and to get rid 
of the moiSture, set them in a pan on the fire and Stir ; 
then add salt, and do it a second and a third time. Then 
wash them, and then turn them and wash them and 
set them to dry on a towel ; and rub and wring them 
to dry them. (These be the big inteStines, that have 
fat within them, and that be cut out with a knife.) 
After you have put in and measured in equal portions 
and quantities, for so much blood half as much of 
onions and for so much blood a quarter as much of 
fat, and when your black puddings have been filled 
therewith, cook them in a pan in the pot water of the 
haslet, and prick them with a pin when they swell, or 
else they will burSt. 

Note , that the blood keepeth well for two days, in 
sooth for three, after the spices be therein. And some 
inStead of spices take pennyroyal, the large savory, 
hyssop, marjoram, gathered when they be in flower and 
then dried and brayed inStead of spices. And as to the 
haslet, set it in a copper pot to cook on the fire, whole 
and without salt, and put the length of the throat 
outside the pot ; and when it is cooked take it out and 
keep it to make pottage. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Quceritur how the interlines shall be reversed to 
wash them ; resfonsio : by a linen thread and a brass 
wire as long as a gauger’s rod. 

Note , that some hang their pigs at Eaftertide and 
the air yellows them ; wherefore it is befl: to keep and 
salt them as they do in Picardy, although the flesh be 
not as firm, it seemeth ; nathless bacon which is fair and 
white is much better to be served up than that which is 
yellow, for however good be the yellow, it is too 
much condemned and discourages one to look upon it. 

Venison of Stag or any other. He that would 
salt it in summer, it behoves him to salt it in a wash 
tub or a bath tub [with water and] coarse brayed salt, 
and then dry it in the sun. The haunch which is 
salted ought to be cooked firfl: in water and wine to 
get rid of the salt, and then throw away the wine and 
water and afterwards set it to cook slowly in meat 
broth and turnips, and serve it in strips with water in 
a dish and venison. 

Item , he that hath young and small turnips should 
cook them in water and without wine for the firft 
boiling and then throw away the water and then cook 
slowly in water and wine with chestnuts therein, or 
if he have no chestnuts, sage ; then serve as above. 

In June and July, beef and mutton salted in pieces 
and well cooked in water with shallots ; salted from 
morn to eve, or a day at moft. 

Common Pottages Thin and Unspiced. 

And firff Pottage of Old Peas (Potage de Pois 
Vielz). Behoveth to shell them and to find out from 
the people of the place the nature of the peas of that 


How to Prepare Viands 

place (for commonly peas cook not well in well water ; 
and in some places they cook well in spring water or 
river water, as in Paris, and in others they will not cook 
in spring water, as at Beziers) and when you have found 
this out it behoves to wash them in a pail of warm water, 
then set them in a pot of warm water on the fire and 
boil them till they burft. Then drain off the liquid and 
set it aside, and fill the pot with the peas with warm 
water and set it on the fire and boil and pour off a 
second time, if you will : then put them back without 
water, for they will give out enough and boil in that ; 
and it behoves not to put the spoon into the pot after 
the puree is made, but shake the pot and the peas 
together and little by little drop warm water into them, 
or hotter than warm and not cold, and boil and cook 
them thoroughly before you add anything other than 
hot water, be it meat or anything else ; do not put in 
salt or bacon or any seasoning until they be quite 
cooked. You may add sewe 1 of bacon or meat, but 
not salt and the spoon ought not to be put in until 
they be well cooked ; nathless they may be well 
moved about in the pot. 

On a meat day it behoveth after that they be 
drained, to add sewe of bacon or meat, and when they 
be nearly cooked, you may put bacon therein ; and 
when you take the bacon out of the peas, you ought to 
wash it in the sewe of the meat, so that it be fairer to 
set in ftrips on the meat, and be not covered with bits 
of the peas. 

On a fish day, when the peas be cooked, you should 
have onions, which have cooked for as long as the peas 
in one pot and the bacon in another pot, and right 


The Goodman of Paris 

as you pour and add the sewe of meat to the peas, so on 
a fish day, when you have put your peas on the fire in a 
pot, you muft set aside your onions sliced in another 
pot, and pour and add the pot -water of the onions to 
the peas ; and when all is cooked, fry the onions and 
put half of them with the peas and the other half in 
the puree, which is spoken of hereafter, and then add 
salt. And if on a fish day or in Lent there be whale- 
flesh ( craspois ),* you ought to use it as you use bacon 
on a meat day. 

As to new peas, sometimes they be cooked with sewe 
of meat and brayed parsley to make a green pottage 
and that is for a meat day ; and on a fish day, they be 
cooked in milk with ginger and saffron therein ; and 
sometimes a la cretonnee as will be shown hereafter. 

Item Beans may be frizzled (jrasees) at Eastertide in 
this manner, to wit if you would have / eves jrasees, it 
behoves you to shell and wash them and put them 
without soaking them, skin and all, into a pot of boiling 
water on the fire and let them boil until the skin be all 
wrinkled and cooked ; then take it off the fire and put 
in a spoon and skin them and frizzle them in their 
own heat, one spoonful after another, and caSt them 
into cold water. After this, it behoves to wash them 
in warm water like peas, and set them to boil in cold 
water and when they be boiled till they burSt, drain 
them ; and throw away the pot water and fill up with 
meat broth on a flesh day, or with some other liquid on 
a fish day ; and season with oil and onion well cooked 
and then fried, or with butter, and they can be made 
green again with bean leaves fresh brayed, moiStened 
with warm water and Strained ; then do as with the 


How to Prepare Viands 

others [the peas], either with bacon on a meat day, or 
as for a fish day. 

Porray or Greens 1 (Poree). There be three sort 
of porray, according to the saying of cooks, who call 
them white, green and black. 

White porray is so called because it is made of the 
white of leeks, chines, chitterlings and ham, in the 
autumn and winter seasons on meat days ; and know 
that no other fat save pigs, fat is good therewith. And 
firft you pick over, wash, slice and blanch the leeks, 
to wit in summer when they be young ; but in winter, 
when the aforesaid leeks be older and harder, it behoves 
you to parboil 2 them, instead of blanching them, and if 
it be a fish day, after what has been said, you musl: put 
them in a pot of hot water and so boil them, and also 
boil sliced onions and then fry the onions, and after- 
wards fry the leeks with the onions that have been 
fried already ; then put all to cook in a pot of cow’s 
milk, if it be out of Lent and on a fish day ; and if it 
be in Lent one puts milk of almonds therein. And if 
it be a meat day, when these summer leeks be blanched, 
or the winter leeks parboiled as aforesaid, do you set 
them to cook in a pot of sewe of salt meat or pork, 
with some bacon therein. 

Note that sometimes for leeks one makes a thickening 
of bread. 

Item, white porray of beets is made as above in 
mutton and beef sewe mixed, but not in sewe of pork ; 
and on a fish day with milk of almonds or cows’ milk. 

Item, Cress in Lent with Milk of Almonds. 
Take your cress and set it to parboil, with a handful 
of beets cut up, and fry them in oil, then set to boil in 


The Goodman of Paris 

milk of almonds ; and when it is not Lent fry it in 
lard and butter until it be cooked, then dilute it with 
sewe of meat ; or do it with cheese and serve it quickly 
or it will turn brown. Nathless, if you put parsley 
therein it should not be blanched. 

There is a kind of porray called spinach and it has 
longer leaves, thinner and greener than common 
porray and it is eaten at the beginning of Lent. 

Porray of beets that is washed, then cut up and 
parboiled, keeps greener than that which is firft par- 
boiled and then sliced. But ftill greener and better 
is that which has the outer leaves removed and is 
then washed and cut up very small, and blanched in 
cold water ; then the water is changed and it is set to 
soak in fresh water, then well drained and set in a 
pot with bacon and mutton sewe and brought to the 
boil once ; and when it has boiled for a little and you 
would serve it, set therein some parsley, picked over, 
washed and cut up and a little green fennel and boil 
once only. 

All considered, porray that is leaft boiled and not 
parboiled is the greenest and parsley ought not to be 
boiled, or only very little, for in boiling it loses its 

Green porray on a fish day. Let it have the outer 
leaves removed and be cut up and then washed in cold 
water without parboiling it and then cooked with 
verjuice and a little water, and put some salt therein 
and let it be served boiling and very thick, not clear ; 
and put at the bottom of the bowl, underneath the 
porray, salt butter, or fresh if you will, or cheese, or 
old verjuice. 


How to Prepare Viands 

Porray of sprouts is in season from January to EaSter 
and afterwards. 

Black porray is made with spiced strips of bacon ; 
to wit the porray is picked over, washed, then cut up 
and blanched in boiling water, then fried in the fat 
of bacon slices ; then do you moiSfen it with boiling 
water (and some say that if it be washed in cold water 
it is darker and more black) and you muft set upon each 
bowl two slices of bacon. 

Cabbages be of five sorts ; the beSl be those that 
have been frostbitten and they be tender and soon 
cooked ; and in frosty weather they muSt not be par- 
boiled, but in rainy weather they must. 

White cabbages come at the end of AuguSt. 

Cabbage hearts at the end of the vintage. And 
when the heart of the cabbage, which is in the midSt, 
is plucked off, you pull up the Stump of the cabbage 
and replant it in fresh earth, and there will come forth 
from it big spreading leaves ; and the cabbage takes 
a great deal of room and these cabbage hearts be called 
Roman cabbages and they be eaten in winter ; and 
when the Stumps be replanted, there grow out of them 
little cabbages which be called sprouts and which be 
eaten with raw herbs in vinegar ; and if you have 
plenty, they are good with the outer leaves removed 
and then washed in warm water and cooked whole in 
a little water ; and then when they be cooked add salt 
and oil and serve them very thick, without water, and 
put olive oil over them in Lent. Then there be 
cabbages which be called EaSler cabbages, because 
they be eaten at EaSlertide, but they be served from 
AuguSf ; and when after sowing they are half a foot 


The Goodman of Paris 

above the ground, they muft be pulled up and trans- 

And firft concerning the cabbage hearts, to wit when 
the leaves be plucked off, and picked over and cut up, it 
behoves to parboil them very well and for much longer 
than the other cabbages, for Roman cabbages, require 
to have the green of the leaves torn into pieces and the 
yellow, that is to wit the veins, crushed in a mortar, 
then all blanched together in hot water, then drained 
and put in a pot of warm water, if you have not enough 
meat sewe ; and serve with very greasy pot -water and 
some brayed bread therein. 

And know that cabbages require to be put on the 
fire very early in the morning and cooked for a very 
long time, much longer than any other pottage, and 
on a good, strong fire, and they should be diluted with 
beef fat and none other, whether they be hearts or 
early cabbages, or whatever they be save sprouts. 
Know also that the greasy pot -water of beef and mutton 
is proper thereto, but in no wise that of pork, which is 
only good for leeks. 

Then on a fish day you may parboil cabbages and 
set them to cook in warm water and add oil and 

Item, therewith some put oatmeal. Item, instead of 
oil some put butter thereto. 

On a meat day you may put therewith pigeons, 
sausages and hare, coots and plenty of bacon. 

Turnips be hard and ill to cook until they have been 
in the cold and froft ; you cut off the head and tail 
and other hairs or roots, then scrape and wash them in 
two or three cauldrons of hot — very hot — water, then 


How to Prepare Viands 

cook them in hot meat sewe, be it of pig, beef or 

Item, in Beauce after cooking them, they cut them 
up into slices and fry them in a pan and call spice 
powder over them. 

Handy or Improvised Soup 1 Soupe Depourvue). 
Take parsley and fry it in butter, then pour boiling 
water on to it and boil it and add salt, and serve your 
sops as in the puree. 

Aliter, if you have some cold beef, cut it up very 
small and then bray a little bread moislened with 
verjuice and run it through the Hrainer and set it in a 
dish with spice powder over it. Warm it on the coal. 1 
It is good for three people. 

Aliter, on a fish day, take water and set it to boil 
with almonds in it ; then peel and bray the almonds, 
moillen them with warm water, Hrain them and set 
them to boil with powder of ginger and saffron and 
serve in bowls ; and in each bowl a slice of fried fish. 

Aliter, on a fish day, take meat broth and bread 
soaked in thin pot-water of meat, then bray it with 
six eggs, strain and put in a pot with greasy water 
spices, verjuice, vinegar and saffron : bring it up to the 
boil once and serve in bowls. 

Aliter, boil a little bacon in a pot and when it is 
half cooked take a fresh mackerel and cut it into pieces 
and set them to cook with the bacon and then take it 
all out and set minced parsley to boil until it bubbles 
once and serve. 

To Know a Good Cheese. Good cheese has six 
qualities : Non Argus, nec Helena, nec Maria Magda- 
lena, sed Lazarus et Martinus, respondens pontifici. 3 



The Goodman of Paris 

Non mie blanc comme Helaine, 

Non mie plourant com Magdalaine, 

Non Argus, mais du tout avugle, 

Et aussi pesant comme un bugle [boeuf] : 

Contre le poulce soit rebelie, 

Et qu’il ait tigneuse cotelle [cotte]. 

Sans yeulx, bien plourer, non pas blanc. 

Tigneulx, rebelle, bien pesant. 

Not white as snow, like fair Hel&i, 

Nor moift, like tearful Magdalen, 

Not like Argus full of eyes, 

But heavy, like a bull of prize. 

Well resifting thumb pressed in, 

And let it have a scaly skin. 

Eyeless and tearless, in colour not white. 

Scaly, resifting and weighing not light. 

Pottages Thin and Spiced. 

Primo , note that all spices that be for putting into 
pottages mull be well brayed and not ^trained, save it 
be for a jelly; and into all pottages behoveth it to put 
the spices as late as may be, for the sooner they be put 
in, the more they lose their savour ; and the bread 
crumbs should be strained. 

Mutton Coloured Yellow (Mouton au Jaunet). 
Cut it into pieces all raw and let it be from the leg, 
cook it in water, then bray thereon a head of ginger and 
some saffron and moisten it with verjuice, wine and 

Capon Brewet (Brouet de Chapons). Cook you 
capons in water and wine, then dismember them and 
fry them in grease, then bray the guts and livers of 
your capons with almonds and moiffen them with your 
sewe and boil ; then take ginger, cinnamon, clove, 


How TO Prepare Viands 

galingale, long pepper and grain of Paradise and 
moiSten them with vinegar and boil ; and to serve it 
forth, put the solid part out into bowls and pour the 
pottage onto it. 

Gravy (Grave ou Seyme) is a winter pottage. Peel 
onions and boil them in slices, then fry them in a pot. 
Now behoveth it to have your chicken cleft across the 
back and grilled on the grill over a coal 2 fire, or if it be 
veal the same ; and let the veal be put in in gobbets 
and the chicken in quarters and put them with the 
onions in the pot ; then have white bread toaSted on 
the grill and steeped in the sewe of another meat ; 
and then bray ginger, clove, grain [of Paradise] and long 
pepper, moisten them with verjuice and wine(but strain 
them not) and set them aside ; then bray the bread and 
run it through the strainer and put it in the brewet and 
let all Strain together and boil ; then serve it forth. 

Rosee of Young Rabbits (Rose de Lappereaux 
[etc.]), larks and small birds or chickens. Let the 
rabbits be skinned, cut up, parboiled, done again in 
cold water and larded ; let the chickens be scalded for 
plucking, then done again, cut up and larded, and let 
larks and little birds be plucked only for parboiling 
in sewe of meat ; then have bacon lard cut up into little 
squares and put them into a frying pan and take away 
the lumps but leave the fat, and therein fry your meat, 
or set your meat to boil on the coal, often turning it, 
in a pot with fat. And while you do this, have peeled 
almonds and moiSten them with beef broth and run it 
through the Strainer, then have ginger, a head of clove, 
cedar otherwise hight alexander [red cedar], make some 
gravy and Strain it and when the meat is cooked set 


The Goodman of Paris 

it in a pot with the broth and plenty of sugar ; then 
serve in bowls with glazed spices thereon. 

Red cedar is a wood that is sold by the spicers, and it 
is called “cedar whereof the sheaths of knives be made.” 

Other Thick Meat Pottages. 

Cretonn£e of New Peas or Beans (Cretonnee de 
Pois Nouveaulx ou Feves Nouvelles). Cook them 
until they become a puree and then pour away the 
liquid, then take cow’s milk very fresh — and say to the 
woman who shall sell it to you that she give it not to 
you if she have put water therein, for often they add 
to their milk and it is not fresh if there be water in it, 
it will turn.— -And fin?! boil this milk before putting 
anything into it, for again it will turn [if you do not] ; 
then bray firli: ginger to give appetite, and saffron to 
colour it yellow ; nathless if you would thicken it with 
yolks of eggs dropped slowly therein, the same yolks of 
eggs will suffice to colour it and also to thicken it, but 
milk tumeth more quickly with yolks of eggs than with 
a thickening of bread and saffron for colouring. Where- 
fore, if you would thicken it with bread, it muft be white 
bread and not risen and it mull: be put to soak in a 
bowl with milk and broth of meat, then brayed and 
run through a ftrainer. And when your bread is 
^trained and your spices not so, set all to boil with your 
peas ; and when all be cooked, add thereto your milk 
and some saffron. Again you may use another 
thickening, to wit peas or beans, brayed and then 
^trained ; and do you take whatsoever thickening beft 
pleaseth you. When the thickening is of yolk of eggs? 
it behoveth to beat them, put them through the strainer 


How to Prepare Viands 

and run them very slowly into the milk, after it hath 
been well boiled with the new peas or beans and the 
spices, and hath been take off the fire. The safest way 
is to take a little milk and moisten the eggs in the bowl 
and then [do so] again and again, until the yolks be well 
mixed with plenty of milk by the spoon ; then put 
it into a pot away from the fire and the pottage will not 
turn. And if the pottage is thick moiften it with the 
sewe of the meat. This done, behoveth it to have 
chickens quartered, or veal, or a gosling boiled and 
then fried and do you put two or three pieces in each 
bowl and the pottage over them. 

Cretonnee for a fish day, let the fried meats be of 
tench, pike, soles or dab fried. 

Poultry Flavoured with Cummin (Comminee de 
Poulaille). Cut it into pieces and put it to cook in 
water and a little wine, then fry it in fat ; then take a 
little bread dipped in your broth and take firft ginger 
and cummin, moisten them with verjuice, bray and 
strain and put all together with meat or chicken broth, 
and then colour it either with saffron or with eggs or 
yolks run through a strainer and dropped slowly into 
the pottage, after it is taken off the fire. Item, beft it 
is to make it with milk as aforesaid and then to bray 
your bread after your spices, but behoveth it to boil the 
milk firft left it burn, and after the pottage is finished 
let the milk be put into wine ( meseemeth that this is not 
needful ) 1 and fry it. Many there be that fry it not, 
nathless it taftes beft so. 

{Bread is the thickening and afterwards he saith eggs, 
which is another thickening, and one should suffice, as is 
said in the chapter concerning the cretonnee. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Verjuice and come. — Ij you would make your pottage 
with milk behoveth not to use wine or verjuice.) 

Comminee for a Fish Day. Fry your fish, then 
peel almonds and bray them and dilute with puree or 
fish broth and make milk of almonds ; but cow s milk 
is more appetising, though not so healthy for the sick ; 
and for the reft do as above. Item, on a meat day, if 
you cannot have cow’s milk, you may make the dish 
of milk of almonds and meat as above. 

Cinnamon Brewet (Brouet de Canelle). Break 
up your poultry or other meat and ftew it in water, 
putting wine therewith, and [then] fry it ; then take 
raw dried almonds in their shells unpeeled and great 
plenty of cinnamon and bray then very well and moiften 
them with your broth or with beef broth and boil 
them with your meat ; then bray ginger, cloves and 
grain [of Paradise] etc., and let it be thick and red. 

Garnished Brewet (Brouet George, Brouet 
Houssie). Take poultry broken into quarters, or veal 
or such meat as you will broken into gobbets and boil 
it with bacon ; and beside this have onions minced 
small, cooking and frying in a pan with some fat. Have 
likewise bread toafted on the grill and set it to soak in 
the broth of your meat with some wine therein ; then 
bray ginger, cinnamon, long pepper, saffron, cloves and 
grain [of Paradise] and the livers and bray them so well 
that needeth not to ftrain them, and moiften them with 
verjuice, wine and vinegar. And when the spices be 
taken out of the mortar, bray your bread and moiften 
it with that in which it hath been soaking, and run it 
through the ftrainer and add leaves of parsley if you 
will and set all to boil with fat and onions and then 




[face p, 262 

How to Prepare Viands 

fry your meat. And this pottage ought to be the brown 
hue of fat and as thick as a soringue. 

(1 do not believe that it behoveth [to use\ wine or 

Note that because of the parsley only is it called 
“garnished’ ’ (houssie) brewet, for just as one saith 
“fringed ”(/! range) with saffron, so doth one say garnished 
with parsley; and it is the manner of speaking of cooks. 

Red Brewet (Brouet Rousse) is made like Brewet 
George above, save that one putteth not saffron 
therein, nor wine nor vinegar, but putteth therein 
greater plenty of cinnamon and onions cut into rounds. 

A Vinegar Dish (Une Vinaigrette). Take the 
spleen of a pig and let it be well washed and scalded 
and then half roasted on the grill ; then mince it into 
gobbets and put them in an earthenware pot, with fat 
and onions cut into rounds, and set the pot on the fire 
and move it often. And when all is well fried or 
cooked, add thereto beef broth and boil all together, 
then bray toafted bread, ginger, grain [of Paradise], 
saffron, etc. and moisfen with wine and vinegar, and 
boil it, and it ought to be brown. 

White Brewet (Brouet Blanc). Take capons, 
pullets or chickens killed the due time beforehand, 
either whole or in halves or quarters, and slices of veal 
and cook them with bacon in water and wine and when 
they be cooked take them off , and then take almonds 
and peel and bray them and moiflen them with sewe 
from your birds, and let it be as clear as may be, with 
no dregs nor any thickness, and then run it through the 
Strainer ; then take white ginger, pared or peeled, with 
grain of Paradise moistened as above, and run them 


The Goodman of Paris 

through, a very fine sieve and mix with milt of almonds. 
And if it be not thick enough, then run in flour of 
amidon or rice boiled and add a drop of verjuice and 
put therein great plenty of white sugar. And when 
you have served it forth, powder thereon a spice that 
is hight red coriander and set pomegranate seeds with 
comfits and fried almonds round the edge of each 
bowl. See hereafter concerning this under Blank- 

Blankmanger (Blanc Mangier) of capons for sick 
folk. Cook it in water until it is well done, then bray 
great plenty of almonds and capons’ guts and let them 
be well brayed and moistened with your broth and run 
through the strainer. Then set it to boil well, until 
it is well thickened ; then bray pared white ginger 
and the other spices contained heretofore under 
White Brewet. 

German Brewet (Brouet d’Alemaigne). Take 
meat of coneys, poultry and veal and break it into 
pieces ; then boil it in water until it is half cooked and 
then fry it in bacon lard ; then have some onions 
minced small in a pot on the fire, and in the pot some 
fat, and move the pot often ; then bray ginger, 
cinnamon, grain of paradise, nutmegs and roafted 
livers in a brochette on the grill, and some saffron 
diluted with verjuice, and let it be of a yellow hue and 
thick. And firft [have] bread toasted on the grill and 
^trained ; and let it all be set together to boil with some 
leaves of parsley in the aforesaid pot and let there be 
sugar therein ; and to serve it forth, set two or three 
pieces of your meat in the bowl and some broth over 
it and sugar on the top of the broth. 


How to Prepare Viands 

(. Note what is required ; for some cooks say that 
German broth ought not to be yellow , and this one saith 
that it should. So if it ought to be yellow the saffron 
ought not to be passed through the strainer, but it ought 
to be well brayed and moistened, and put thus into the 
pottage ; for that which is Strained is to give colour ; 
that which is sprinkled on the top is said to be “ fringed ” 
C frangie ).) 

Delicate English Brewet [Soubtil Brouet 
d’Angleterre]. Take peeled and cooked cheSinuts 
and as much, or more of hard yolks of eggs or pork liver : 
bray all together, moisten with warm water, then run 
through the Strainer ; then bray ginger, cinnamon, 
cloves, grain [of Paradise], long pepper, galingale and 
saffron to give colour and set them to boil together. 

Savoy Brewet (Brouet de Savoie). Take capons 
or pullets and boil them with very lean bacon and 
livers ; and when they be half cooked, take them off 
and put in breadcrumbs soaked in the sewe, then bray 
ginger, cinnamon, and saffron and take them out ; 
then bray the livers with plenty of parsley, Strain and 
afterwards bray and Strain the bread and boil all 

Geneste is called geneSte because it is as yellow as the 
flowers of broom {gene Stef 1 and it is yellowed with yolk 
of eggs and saffron and this is done in summer instead 
of civey and it is done as is said hereafter, save that 
there be no onions therein. 

Hare Civey (Civi de Lievre). FirSt, cleave the 
breaSt of the hare, and if it be fresh taken, as one or 
two days since, wash it not, but set it to toaSf upon the 
grill, i.e. to grill on a good coal fire or on the spit ; 


The Goodman of Paris 

then have cooked onions and fat in a pot and put pour 
onions in with the fat and your hare by gobbets, and 
fry them on the fire, moving the pot very often, or fry 
them in a frying pan. Then toaft and burn some bread 
and soak it in the sewe of the meat with vinegar and 
wine ; and beforehand have brayed ginger, grain [of 
Paradise], clove, long pepper, nutmegs and cinnamon 
and let them be brayed and moistened with verjuice 
and vinegar or meat broth ; pour it out again and set 
it aside. Then bray your bread, moiften it with broth 
and strain the bread (and not the spices) through the 
drainer, and put the broth, onions and fat, spices and 
toafted bread all to cook together, and the hare like- 
wise ; and take care that the civey is brown, sharpened 
with vinegar, tempered with salt and spices. 

A Tile of Meat (Tuile de Char). Take cooked 
crayfish and remove the flesh from the tails ; and the 
reft, to wit tails and carcase, muft be brayed for a very 
long time ; and afterwards take unpeeled almonds, 
and let them be shelled and washed in hot water like 
peas, and let them be brayed with the shell in what is 
abovesaid and with them bray breadcrumbs browned 
on the grill. Now you should have capons, chickens 
and pullets broken all raw into quarters, or veal broken 
into gobbets, and cooked, and with their sewe wherein 
they be cooking you should moisten and dilute what 
you have brayed and then pass it through a ftrainer ; 
then bray the dregs left [in the strainer] once more 
and strain again ; then add ginger, cinnamon, clove and 
long pepper, moistened with verjuice without vinegar, 
and boil all together. Now let your meat be cooked 
in pork’s fat in gobbets or quarters, and serve it forth 


How to Prepare Viands 

in bowls and pour pottage over it and on the pottage, 
in each bowl, set four or five crayfish tails, with 
powdered sugar over all. 

More Thick Pottages Without Meat. 

Soringue of Eels (Soringue d’Anguilles). Skin 
and then cut up your eels ; then have onions cooked in 
slices and parsley leaves and set it all to fry in oil ; then 
bray ginger, cinnamon, clove, grain [of Paradise] and 
saffron, and moisten with verjuice and take them out 
of the mortar. Then have toasfed bread brayed and 
moistened with puree and run it through the strainer, 
then put in the puree and set all to boil together and 
flavour with wine, verjuice and vinegar ; and it muff 
be clear. 

Espimbeche of Roaches (Espimbeche de Rougets) 
Parboil and roaft your roaches ,- then take verjuice and 
powder, cameline and parsley ; boil them together 
and pour over. 

Yellow Pottage or Yellow Sauce (Potage 
Jaunet ou Sausse Jaunette) on cold or hot fish. Fry 
in oil without any meal, pike, skinned perch or other fish 
of this sort, then bray almonds and dilute them with 
wine and verjuice and strain and set on the fire ; then 
bray ginger, clove, grain [of Paradise] and saffron and 
moiften them with your broth and when the pottage 
boils, put in your spices ; and to serve put in sugar and 
let it be thick. 

Roast Meats. 

Stuffed Pigling (Pourcelet Farci). Let the pig 
be killed by cutting his throat and scalded in boiling 
water and then skinned ; then take the lean meat and 


The Goodman of Paris 

throw away the feet and entrails of the pig and set him 
to boil in water ; and take twenty eggs and boil them 
hard and chestnuts cooked in water and peeled. Then 
take the yolks of the eggs, the chestnuts, some fine old 
cheese and the meat of a cooked leg of pork and chop 
them up, then bray them with great plenty of saffron 
and ginger powder mixed with the meat ; and if your 
meat becometh too hard, soften it with yolks of eggs. 
And open not your pig by the belly but across the 
shoulders and with the smallest opening you may ; 
then put him on the spit and afterwards put your 
stuffing into him and sew him up with a big needle j 
and let him be eaten either with yellow pepper sauce 
or with cameline in summer. 

(Note, that I have indeed seen Huffed fig and it is 
very good . And that is how it is now done and pigeons 
likewise .) 

Boars 5 Umbles (Bourbelier de Sanglier). Firft 
behoveth to put it in boiling water and soon have it 
forth and ffcick it all over with cloves ; set it to roaft 
and bafte it with sauce made of spices, to wit ginger, 
cinnamon, clove, grain [of Paradise], long pepper and 
nutmegs, moistened with verjuice, wine and vinegar 
and ba£!e therewith without boiling ; and when it is 
roasted boil all together. And this sauce is called 
Boar's 7 ail and you will find it hereafter (and there it is 
thickened with bread and here not.) 

Swan. Pluck him like a chicken or a duck and scald 
or do again [in hot water] ; put him on a spit skewered 
in four places and roaft him whole with beak and feet 
and pluck not his head ; eat with yellow pepper 


How to Prepare Viands 

Item, who will may glaze him. 

Item, in tilling split him from head to shoulders. 
Item, they be sometimes skinned and clad again in 
their feathers. 


Chickens be set in a pally on their backs with the 
breach upward and large slices of bacon on the breall, 
and then covered. 

Item in the Lombard manner, when the chickens be 
plucked and prepared, take beaten eggs (to wit yolks 
and whites) with verjuice and spice powder and dip 
your chickens therein ; then set them in the pally 
with strips of bacon as above. 

Mushrooms of one night be the best and they be 
little and red within and closed at the top ; and they 
mud be peeled and then washed in hot water and 
parboiled and if you wish to put them in a pally add 
oil, cheese and spice powder. 

Item, put them between two dishes on the coals and 
then add a little salt, cheese and spice powder. They 
be found at the end of May and June. 

Pasties of Fresh Venison. You mull parboil 
and scour venison, then lard it and make pallies ; and 
pa Hies of all sorts of fresh venison be made thus ; 
and it mull be cut into big slices like faggots and so it 
is called fiafle de bouly larde. 

Beef Pasties. Take good, young beef and remove 
all the fat and set the lean to cook in pieces until it 
boil once, and then take it to the paHry cook to be 
minced ; and the fat with beef marrow. 

The meat of a beef’s cheek cut into slices and set in 


The Goodman of Paris 

a pa£fcy ; then when the pafiy is cooked, the sauce of a 
young duckling ( halebran ) x musk be caff therein. 

Mutton Pasties. Well minced up small with 

Freshwater Fish. 

Carp. Some prefer the soft-roed to the hard et e 
contrario. And note that the sterile be better than 

Item , to prepare it, remove the gall that is right at 
the back of the throat, and this done you may put the 
head to cook whole and it will cook well and fairly ; 
and if the gall were not taken out the head would always 
be bloody and bitter. Wherefore when the gall cometh 
not out whole without breaking, you should forthwith 
wash the place and rub in salt, and if the gall cometh out 
whole you should not wash the head nor anything 
else, but it behoveth to put the head to boil firft and 
soon afterwards the tail, and then afterwards the 
remnant, all on a slow fire. Boiled carp is eaten with 
green sauce and if any be left over it is put in galentine. 

Item, Steamed Carp (Carpe a l’estouff£e). Firft, 
put minced onions in a pot to boil with water and when 
the onions be well cooked, caft in the head and soon 
afterwards the tail, and soon afterwards the pieces [of 
the body] and cover it well over, so that no fteam cometh 
forth. And when it is cooked, have ready your 
seasoning of ginger, cinnamon and saffron, moistened 
with wine and a little verjuice, to wit the third part, 
and set all to boil together well covered up ; and then 
serve forth in bowls. 

Note , that the Germans say of the French that they 


How to Prepare Viands 

put themselves in great danger by eating their carp so 
underdone. And it hath been observed that if French 
and Germans have a French cook who cooketh carps 
for them, those carps being cooked after the French 
fashion, the Germans will take their portion and will 
have it cooked somewhat more than before and the 
French not so. 

Eel Reversed (Anguille Renversee). Take a large 
eel and fleam it, then slice it along the back the 
length of the bone on both sides, in such manner that 
you draw out the bone, tail and head all together, 
then wash and turn it inside out, to wit the flesh 
outwards, and let it be tied from place to place ; and 
set it to boil in red wine. Then take it out and cut 
the thread with a knife or scissors, and set it to cool on a 
towel. Then take ginger, cinnamon, cloves, flour of 
cinnamon, grain [of Paradise], nutmegs, and bray them 
and set them aside. Then take bread toasted and well 
brayed, and let it not be strained, but moistened with 
wine wherein the eel hath been cooked and boil all 
together in an iron pan and put in verjuice, wine 
and vinegar and caff them on the eel. 

Lampreys. Be it known that some bleed the 
lamprey before they fleam it and some fleam it before 
they bleed or scald it. To bleed it, firft wash your 
hands very well, then split its mouth in the midft of 
the chin and put your finger in and pull out the tongue, 
and bleed the lamprey into a dish, and put a little spit 
into its mouth to make it bleed the better. And if 
your fingers or hands be covered in blood, wash them 
and likewise the cut with vinegar and run it into the 
dish and keep this blood, for it is the fat. 


The Goodman of Paris 

As to fteaming, have hot water on the fire, boiling, 
and fteam it like an eel ; and with a blunt knife peel 
away the inside of the throat and throw away the skin 
and roaft it to a turn. And to make the thick sauce 
(boe, i.e. boue) take ginger, cinnamon, long pepper, 
grain [of Paradise] and a nutmeg and bray them and 
set them on one side ; then take bread toasted until 
it is quite black and bray it and moiften it with vinegar 
and run it through the ftrainer ; then set the blood, 
the spices and the bread to boil all together and bring 
them to the boil once only, and if the vinegar be too 
ftrong, temper it with wine or verjuice ; and then it is 
muddy ; and it is black and juft thick enough and not 
too thick, and the vinegar is slightly the ftrongeft tafte 
and it is a little salt ; then pour it hot onto the lamprey 
and let it simmer. 

Item, another and quicker sauce may be made. 
Take the blood and some vinegar and salt and when the 
lamprey is roafted to a turn, boil the sauce, bring it 
once to the boil only, and pour it over your lamprey 
and leave it to simmer between two dishes. 

Crayfish cooked in water and wine and eaten with 

Sea Fish Round and Flat . 1 

Round sea fish in winter, flat in summer. 

Note that no sea fish is good when it is taken in rainy 
or damp weather. 

Cod. When it is taken in the far seas and it is 
desired to keep it for ten or twelve years, it is gutted 
and its head removed and it is dried in the air and sun 
and in no wise by a fire, or smoked ; and when this is 


How to Prepare Viands 

done It is called Stockfish. And when it hath been kept 
a long time and it is desired to eat it, it behoves to beat 
it with a wooden hammer for a full hour, and then set 
it to soak In warm water for a full two hours or more, 
then cook and scour it very well like beef ; then eat 
it with muftard or soaked in butter. And if any remain 
in the evening, let it be fried in small pieces like shreds 
and spice powder thereon. 

Fresh Cod prepared and cooked like gurnard with 
white wine and eaten & la jance 2 ; and the salt fish 
eaten with butter or muftard. If the salt fish is too 
little soaked it tables too salt, and if too much it Is not 
good ; wherefore who ever is buying it ought to ta£fce 
it by eating a little. 

Fresh Mackerel is in season In June, albeit it is 
found from the month of March. Clean it out by the 
ear, then dry with a clean rag and set it to roaft 
without washing it at all, and it is eaten with cameline 
or fine salt ; and if salted with vinegar and shallots. 
And it is also put in parties with spice powder thereon. 

Ray (or Skate) is cleaned out through the navel and 
keep the liver, and cut it into small pieces and cook it 
like plaice, then skin it and eat it with cameline garlic 
sauce. Ray is good in September and better in 
Oftober, for then it eats fresh herrings. 

Galentine for Ray in summer. Bray almonds and 
moisten them with boiling water and run through the 
sieve ; then bray ginger and garlic and moiffcen with 
this almond milk and Strain it and boil all together and 
spread it over the pieces of ray. 

Ray that has been cooked may be fried without 
flour in oil and eaten hot with cameline sauce and that 
is better than cold galentine. 

The Goodman of Paris 

Divers Ways of Preparing Eggs. 

One Herbolace (Arboulastre) or two of eggs. 
Take of dittany two leaves only, and of rue less than 
the half or naught, for know that it is Hrong and bitter ; 
of smallage, tansey, mint and sage, of each some four 
leaves or less, for each is strong; marjoram a little 
more, fennel more, parsley more ffcill ; but of porray, 
beets, violet leaves, spinach, lettuces and clary, as much 
of the one as of the others, until you have two large 
handfuls. Pick them over and wash them in cold water, 
then dry them of all the water, and bray two heads of 
ginger ; then put your herbs into the mortar two or 
three times and bray them with the ginger. And then 
have sixteen eggs well beaten together, yolks and whites, 
and bray and mix them in the mortar with the things 
abovesaid, then divide it into two, and make two thick 
omelettes, which you shall fry as followeth. Firft you 
shall heat your frying pan very well with oil, butter, or 
such other fat as you will, and when it is very hot all 
over and especially towards the handle, mingle and 
spread your eggs over the pan and turn them often 
over and over with a flat palette, then call good grated 
cheese on the top ; and know that it is so done, 
because if you grate cheese with the herbs and the 
eggs, when you come to fry your omelette, the cheese 
at the bottom will Hick to the pan ; and thus it befals 
with an egg omelette if you mix the eggs with the 
cheese. Wherefore you should firH put the eggs in 
the pan, and put the cheese on the top and then cover 
the edges with eggs ; and otherwise it will cling to the 
pan. And when your herbs be cooked in the pan, cut 


How to Prepare Viands 

your herbolace into a round or a square and eat it not 
too hot nor too cold. 

Entremets, Fried Dishes and Glazed Dishes 

Frumenty (Froumentee). First it behoves you to 
hull your wheat as is done for peeled barley, then know 
that for ten bowls there is needed a pound of hulled 
wheat, the which is sometimes to be had from the 
spicers all ready hulled for a silver penny [5d.] a pound. 
Peel and cook it in water until the evening, and 
leave it all night covered by the fire in warm water, 
then take it out and peel. Then boil milk in a 
pan and do not fbir it, for it would turn ; and straight- 
way without delay set it in a pot so that it smell not 
of brass ; and also, when it is cold, skim off the cream 
on the top so that this cream may not make the 
frumenty turn, and once more boil the milk and a little 
of the wheat with it, until there is no more wheat; 
then take yolks of eggs and break them into it, to wit 
for each sefter [8 pints] of milk a hundred eggs, then 
take the boiling milk and beat the eggs with the milk, 
then take off the pot and throw in the eggs and take 
it off ; and if you see that it is likely to turn, put the 
pot in a pailful of water. On a fish day, meat broth ; 
and it is meet to put in saffron if the eggs do not make 
it yellow enough ; item two heads of ginger. 

Faulx Grenon. Cook the livers and gizzards of 
chickens, or some veal or a leg of pork or of mutton in 
water and wine, then mince it very small and fry it in 
lard ; then bray ginger, cinnamon, clove, grain [of 
Paradise], wine, verjuice, beef broth or its own, and 

27 5 

The Goodman of Paris 

great store of yolks of eggs, and pour onto your meat 
and make all boil well together. Some add saffron, for 
it should be of a yellowish colour, and some add bread 
toasted, brayed and ffrained, for it should be thickened 
with eggs and bread and likewise it should be sharpened 
with verjuice. And when you serve it caff powdered 
cinnamon onto each bowl. 

Mortrews (Mortereul) is made in like manner to 
faulx grenon, save that the meat is brayed in a mortar 
with cinnamon spice; and there is no bread but 
cinnamon powder over it. 

Taillis to serve in Lent. Take fine raisins, boiled 
milk of almonds, cracknels, gaieties and crufts of white 
bread and apples cut into little squares and boil your 
milk and add saffron to colour it and sugar and put all 
in together until it is thick enough to be cut. It is 
served in Lent, instead of rice. 

Stuffed Poultry (Poulaille Farc£e). Take your 
chickens and cut their throats, then scald them and 
pluck them, and be careful when you pluck them not to 
tear the skin ; then do them again in water, then take 
a quill, and insert it betwixt the skin and the flesh and 
blow the bird up ; then open it betwixt the two 
shoulders and see that you make not too large a hole, 
and draw out the interlines, and leave in their skin the 
legs the wings, the neck and all the head and the feet. 

And to make the stuffing, take mutton, veal and pork 
and chicken livers and mince them all up together raw, 
then bray them in a mortar with raw eggs and cheese 
and good spice powder and a very little saffron and juft 
enough salt. Then fill your chickens and sew up the 
hole, and with the reft of your fluffing make balls like 

How to Prepare Viands 

; o the pastilles of woad 1 and set them to cook in 
beef broth or in fair boiling water with great plenty of 
saffron and let it not boil too much left they fall to 
pieces ; then spit them on a very thin spit. And to 
glaze them take great plenty of yolks of eggs and beat 
them with a little saffron brayed therein, and glaze 
therewith ; and if you would have a green glaze, bray 
green ftuff and then great plenty of yolks of eggs well 
beaten and passed through a ftrainer for the greenftuff, 
and therewith glaze your poultry when it is cooked and 
your balls likewise. And put your spit into the vessel 
wherein is your glaze and run your glaze all along it, 
and set it back at the fire twice or thrice, so that your 
glaze may take hold ; and have a care that your glaze 
come not before too hot a fire left it burn. 

Savoury Rice (Ris Engoul£) for a meat day. Peel 
it and wash it in two or three lots of cold water until 
the water be quite clear, then half cook it, run off the 
puree and set it on flat trenchers to dry before the fire ; 
then cook it until it is very thick, with beef dripping 
and saffron, if it be a meat day ; and if that it be a 
fish day, put not therein dripping but inftead put in 
almonds well brayed and unftrained ; then sugar it 
and add not saffron. 

To make a Cold Sage (Une froide Sauge). Take 
your chicken and quarter it and set it to cook in salt 
and water, then set it to get cold. Then bray ginger, 
cinnamon powder, grain [of Paradise] and cloves and 
bray them well without ftraining ; then bray bread 
dipped in chicken broth, parsley (the moft), sage and a 
little saffron in the leaf and colour it green and run it 
through a ftrainer (and some there be that run 


The Goodman of Paris 

therewith, yolk of egg) and moisten with good vinegar, 
and when it is moistened set it on your chicken and with 
and on the top of the aforesaid chicken set hard boiled 
eggs cut into quarters and pour your sauce over it all. 

Aliter, take the chicken and pluck it, then set it to 
boil with salt until it be cooked, then take it off and put 
in quarters to get cold ; then put hard boiled eggs to 
cook in water, and put some bread to soak in wine and 
verjuice or vinegar, as much of one as of the other ; 
then take parsley and sage then bray ginger and grain 
[of Paradise] and run it through the strainer and run in 
yolks of eggs and set the hard boiled eggs in quarters 
on the chicken and cover it with your sauce. 

Flawns in Lent (Flaons en Karesme). Prepare 
and fleam eels; cook them afterwards in water so hot 
that you can remove the flesh without the bones and 
leave also the head and tail and take only the flesh ; 
and bray saffron in the mortar, then bray it onto the 
eel’s flesh and moislen with white wine and of that make 
your flawns ; and put sugar over them. 

Item , flawns have a savour of cheese if made of the 
roes of luce and carp and of brayed almonds or amidon, 
and of saffron moistened with wine and plenty of sugar 

Item , they be made with the meat of tench, luce or 
crap, and amidon and saffron, moiflened with white 
wine and sugar thereon. 

To Make a Tart (Tourte), take four handfuls of 
beets, two handfuls of parsley, a handful of chervil, a 
sprig of fennel and two handfuls of spinach, and pick 
them over and wash them in cold water, then cut them 
up very small ; then bray with two sorts of cheese, to 


How to Prepare Viands 

wit a hard and a medium, and then add eggs thereto, 
yolks and whites, and bray them in with the cheese ; 
then put the herbs into the mortar and bray all together 
and also put therein some fine powder. Or instead of 
this have ready brayed in the mortar two heads of 
ginger and onto this bray your cheese, eggs and herbs 
and then caft old cheese scraped or grated onto the 
herbs and take it to the oven and then have your tart 
made and eat it hot. 

To Make Four Dishes of Meat Jelly (Gel£e de 
Char), take a pig and four calves’ feet and have two 
chickens plucked and two thin young rabbits skinned, 
and you mull cut away the fat, and let them be cut 
right along when they be raw, save the pig which is 
in gobbets ; then put into a pan three quarts of white 
wine or clarry, a pint of vinegar, and half a pint of 
verjuice and boil and skim them well ; then put therein 
a quarter of an ounce of saffron tied up in a little cloth 
to give it the colour of amber, and boil meat and all 
together with a little salt ; then take ten or twelve 
heads of white ginger, or five or six heads of galingale, 
half an ounce of grain of Paradise, two or three pieces 
of mace leaf, two silver penni worths [iod.] of zedoary ; 
cubebs and nard three silver penniworths [15s.] ; bay 
leaves and six nutmegs ; then bray them in a mortar 
and put them in a bag and set them to boil with the 
meat until it be cooked, then take it out and set it to 
dry on a clean cloth, then take the feet, groin and ears 
for the beffc dish and all the reft for the others. Then 
take a fair towel on two treaties and pour all your 
caudle therein, save the spices, which you shall take 
out, and set to ftrain for pottage, and do not move it, 


The Goodman of Paris 

Stuffed Straws (Pipefarces). Take the yolks ol 
eggs and flour and salt and a little wine and beat them 
well together and cheese cut into strips and then roll 
the strips of cheese in the paste and fry them in an 
iron pan with fat therein. One does likewise with 
beef marrow. 

Sauces Not Boiled. 

Mustard. If you would make provision of muftard 
to keep for a long time, make it in the harvest season 
and of soft pods. And some say that the pods should 
be boiled. Item , if you would make muftard in the 
country in hafte, bray mustardseed in a mortar and 
moiften it with vinegar and run it through the strainer 
and if you would prepare it at once, set it in a pot before 
the fire. Item, if you would make good muftard and at 
leisure, set the muftardseed to soak for a night in good 
vinegar, then grind it in a mill and then moiften it 
little by little with vinegar ; and if you have any spices 
left over from jelly, clarry, hippocras or sauces, let 
them be ground with it and afterwards prepare it. 

Sorrel Verjuice. Bray sorrel very well without 
the ftems and dilute it with old white verjuice and do 
not strain the sorrel, but bray it well ; vel sic : bray 
parsley and sorrel or blades of corn. Item, vine shoots, 
to wit young shoots and tender, without sterns. 

Cameline. Note that at Tournay to make cameline 
they bray ginger, cinnamon and saffron and half a 
nutmeg moistened with wine, then take it out of the 
mortar ; then have white breadcrumbs, not toasted but 
moistened in cold water and brayed in the mortar, 
moisten them with wine and strain them, then boil all 


How to Prepare Viands 

of an egg on a feather, and put the gold thereon with a 

Pommeaulx. Take the lean part of a leg of mutton 
raw and as much of the leg of a lean pig ; and let them 
be minced together very small ; then bray in a mortar 
ginger, grain [of Paradise] and cloves and scatter the 
powder on your mincemeat, and moisfen it with white 
of egg without the yolk ; then knead the spices and the 
raw meat with your hands into the shape of an apple, 
then when the shape is well done, set them to cook in 
water with salt, then take them off, and have skewers 
of hazelwood and skewer them and set them to roaffc ; 
and when they be roafted have parsley brayed and 
passed through a strainer and flour mixed therewith, 
neither too thin nor too thick, and take your pommeaulx 
off the fire and put a dish under them, and grease your 
pommeaulx by turning the spit over the dish ; then 
put them to the fire as often as need be until the 
pommeaulx be quite green. 

Frogs. To catch them have a line and a hook with 
a bait of meat or a red rag, and having caught the 
frogs, cut them across the body near the thighs, and 
take out the foulness from the hindparts, and take the 
two thighs, cut off the feet, and skin the thighs all raw, 
then take cold water and wash them ; if the thighs 
remain for a night in cold water, they be so much the 
better and tenderer. And when they be thus steeped, 
let them be washed in warm water, then put in a towel 
and dried ; the aforesaid thighs, thus washed and dried, 
muft be rolled in flour and then fried in oil, fat or some 
other liquid, and let them be served in a bowl with 
spice powder thereon. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Snails that be called escargols , muft be caught in the 
morning. Take those snails that be young and small 
and have black shells, off vines and elder bushes, then 
wash them in water until they put forth no more 
slime ; then wash them once in salt and vinegar and 
set them to cook in water. Then it behoves you to 
draw the aforesaid snails out of their shells at the end 
of a pin or needle, and then you should remove their 
tail which is black (for that is their turd) ; and then 
wash them, and set them to cook and boil in water 
and then take them out and set them in a dish or 
bowl, to be eaten with bread. And some say 
likewise that they be better fried in oil and onions, 
or other liquid after that they be cooked as afore- 
said, and they be eaten with spice powder and be for 
rich folk 1 . 

Norwegian Pasties (Past£s Norrois) be made of 
cod’s liver and sometimes with fish minced therewith. 
And you mu£t firSt parboil them for a little and then 
mince them and set them in little parties the size of a 
threepenny piece, with fine powder thereon. And 
when the pastrycook brings them not cooked in the 
oven, they be fried whole in oil and it is on a fish day ; 
and on a meat day they be made of beef marrow re- 
cooked, that is to wit the narrow is put in a pierced 
spoon, and the pierced spoon with the marrow therein 
is put in the broth of the pot of meat, and left there 
for as long as you would leave an unplucked chicken in 
hot water to warm it up ; then set it in cold water, 
then cut up the marrow and round it into big balls or 
little bullets, then carry them, to the paStrycook, who 
puts them by fours or threes in a pafty with fine powder 


How to Prepare Viands 

thereon. And without putting them in the oven they 
be cooked in fat. 

Other Entremets. 

Larded or Seasoned Milk [Lait Lard£]. Take 
cow’s milk or ewe’s milk and set it to boil on the fire 
and calk in pieces of bacon and saffron ; and take eggs, 
to wit whites and yolks, beat them well and calk them 
in all at once without Ikirring and boil all together ; 
and after this take it off the fire and let it turn ; or 
without eggs you may make it turn with verjuice. 
And when it has cooled, wrap it very tightly in a piece 
of linen or thin Ikuff and squeeze it into whatsoever 
shape you will, either flat or long, and weight it with a 
big Ikone, and let it cool on the dresser all night ; and 
the next day cut it up and fry it in an iron pan, and it 
cooks by itself without other fat, or with fat if you will ; 
and it is set in dishes or bowls like Ikrips of bacon and 
Ikuck with cloves and pine-kernels . 1 And if you would 
make it green, use tournsole. 

Rissoles on a Fish Day. Cook chelknuts on a slow 
fire and peel them, and take hard boiled eggs and cheese 
scraped, and mince them up together very small ; then 
moilken them with the white of eggs, and mingle 
therewith spice powder and a very little moilkened 
salt, and make your rissoles, and then fry them in plenty 
of oil and sugar them. 

And note, in Lent inlkead of eggs and cheese, take 
fkockfish and skirret roots cooked and cut up very small 
or the flesh of pike or eels, figs and dates minced. 

Item, commonly they be made of figs, raisins, roalk 
apples and nuts peeled to counterfeit pine-kernels and 


The Goodman of Paris 

powder of spices ; and let the paSfce be well saffroned 
and then let them be fried in oil. And if a binding be 
necessary amidon binds and rice too. Item , the flesh 
of sea crayfish is good instead of meat. 

Rissoles on a Meat Day be in season from St Remy s 
Day [Oft. ift]. Take a haunch of pork and remove all 
the fat until none remaineth, then set the lean to cook 
in a pot with plenty of salt and when it is nearly 
done, take it off and have eggs hard boiled and cut up 
both whites and yolks, and likewise cut up your meat 
very small, and mix the eggs and the meat together 
and scatter spice powder over them, then make it into 
a paSte and fry in its own fat. And note that it is the 
right Stuffing for a pig ; and sometimes cooks buy it 
from roarers in order to farce their pigs with it ; 
nathless in Stuffing a pig it is good to put good cheese 
in it. 

Item, at the court of lords like Monseigneur de 
Berry when they kill an ox for beef, they make rissoles 
out of the marrow. 

Crisps or Pancakes [Crespes]. Take flour and 
moiSten it with eggs, as well the yolks as the whites, 
removing the germ, and dilute it with water, add salt 
and wine and beat them for a long time together. 
Then set some fat on the fire in a little iron pan, or half 
fat and half fresh butter and fry them ; and then have 
a bowl pierced with a hole as big as your little finger and 
pour some of this liquid into the bowl, beginning with 
the middle, and let it run all round the pan ; then set it 
in a dish, with powdered sugar thereon. And let the 
aforesaid iron or copper pan hold three half pints, and 
let the edge be half a finger high and let it be as wide 


How to Prepare Viands 

above as below, neither more nor less ; and for a good 

Pancakes in the Manner of Tournay (Crespes a 
la Guise de Tournay). Firft, it behoves you to have 
provided yourself with a copper pan holding a quart, 
whereof the mouth muff be no larger than the bottom, 
or very little more and let, the edge be of the height 
of four fingerbreadths, or a good three and a half. 
Item , it behoves to fill it with salt butter and to melt, 
skim and clean this and then pour it into another pan 
and leave all the salt and some fresh fat, very clean, in 
equal quantities. Then take eggs and fry them and 
take the whites away from half of them and let the 
remnant be beaten up, whites and yolks together, then 
take the third or fourth part of warm, white wine and 
mix all together. Then take the fairest wheaten flour 
that you can get and beat them together long enough 
to weary one person or two and let your pa£te be 
neither thin nor thick, but such that it may run gently 
through a hole the size of a little finger. Then set 
your butter and fat on the fire together as much of one 
as of the other, until it boils ; then take your pasfe and 
fill a bowl or a big spoon of pierced wood and run it 
slowly into your grease, firft in the middle of the pan 
then turning it about until your pan be full ; and let 
then go on beating your palfe without stopping, so as 
to make more crisps. And this crisp that is in the pan 
mu£t be lifted with a little spit or skewer, and turned 
upside down to cook it, then taken out and put on a 
dish and the next muff: be begun ; and all the time let 
someone be moving and beating up the pafte un- 


The Goodman of Paris 

Stuffed Straws (Pipefarces). Take the yolks of 
eggs and flour and salt and a little wine and beat them 
well together and cheese cut into strips and then roll 
the strips of cheese in the pafte and fry them in an 
iron pan with fat therein. One does likewise with 
beef marrow. 

Sauces Not Boiled. 

Mustard. If you would make provision of mulfard 
to keep for a long time, make it in the harvest season 
and of soft pods. And some say that the pods should 
be boiled. Item , if you would make mustard in the 
country in halfe, bray musTrardseed in a mortar and 
moisten it with vinegar and run it through the strainer 
and if you would prepare it at once, set it in a pot before 
the fire. Item, if you would make good muftard and at 
leisure, set the muftardseed to soak for a night in good 
vinegar, then grind it in a mill and then moisten it 
little by little with vinegar ; and if you have any spices 
left over from jelly, clarry, hippocras or sauces, let 
them be ground with it and afterwards prepare it. 

Sorrel Verjuice. Bray sorrel very well without 
the ftems and dilute it with old white verjuice and do 
not strain the sorrel, but bray it well ; vel sic : bray 
parsley and sorrel or blades of corn. Item, vine shoots, 
to wit young shoots and tender, without fiems. 

Cameline. Note that at Tournay to make cameline 
they bray ginger, cinnamon and saffron and half a 
nutmeg moistened with wine, then take it out of the 
mortar ; then have white breadcrumbs, not toasted but 
moistened in cold water and brayed in the mortar, 
moiften them with wine and strain them, then boil all 


How to Prepare Viands 

together and put in brown sugar la ft of all; and that is 
winter cameline. And in summer they do the same, 
but it is not boiled. 

And in truth, to my tafte, the winter sort is good, 
but in [summer] that which followeth is far better ; 
bray a little ginger and a great deal of cinnamon, then 
take it out and have toafted bread moiftened, or plenty 
of bread raspings in vinegar, brayed and ftrained. 

Note that three differences there be between ftring 
ginger (gingembre de mesche ) and colombine ginger. 
For the ftring ginger has a darker skin and is softer to 
the knife to cut, and lighter inside than the other ; 
Item better and always dearer . 1 

The galingale which has the reddeft violet hue when 
cut is the better. 

Of nutmegs the heavieft and firmeft to cut be the 
beft. And likewise galingale which is heavy and firm 
to cut, for sometimes it is spoilt, mouldy and light as 
dead wood ; that is not good, but that which is heavy 
and firm to the knife like a nut, that is good. 

Garlic Cameline for Skate. Bray ginger, garlic 
and crufts of white bread moiftened with vinegar ; and 
if you add liver thereto it will be better. 

White or Green Garlic Sauce for Ducklings or 
Beef. Bray a clove of garlic and some white bread- 
crumbs untoafted, and moiften with white verjuice ; 
and if you would have it green, for fish, then bray also 
some parsley and sorrel, or one of them, or rosemary. 

Musty Garlic (Aulx Moussus) for Fresh 
Herrings. Bray the garlic without peeling it, and let 
it be well brayed and moiftened with muft and serve 
it with the peel. 


The Goodman of Paris 

Greek Spice Sauce. Well bra y ginger, clove, grain 
[of Paradise] and take them out of the mortar ; then 
bray parsley or herb bennet, sorrel, marjoram, or one 
or two of these four, and white breadcrumbs moistened 
in verjuice, and Strain and bray again very well, then 
strain once more and put them all together and season 
with vinegar. 

Note that it is a good pickle, but let there be no 

Note that for all spices, many only put in rosemary 

A Green Pickle (Soucif: Vergay) for Preserving 
Salt Water Fish. Take parsley, sage, herb bennet 
vinegar and Strain them ; but beforehand have brayed 
basil, hyssop, sorrel, clary, marjoram, ginger, cinnamon 
flour, long pepper, clove, and grain and be they taken 
out of the mortar and poured over your fish when all 
are Strained; and let it be green. And some add 
thereto gillyflower, root and all. 

For freshwater fish let a chawdon [sauce] be made in 
the same manner, save that you put in no herbs, and 
inStead of herbs put saffron and nutmegs and verjuice, 
and it should be a thin yellow broth, and poured hot 
over cold fish. 

The sauce for a roaSt capon is to dismember it and 
put salt and verjuice and a third part of white or red 
wine on the joints ; and press it hard as you do a 

Item , in summer, the sauce for a roaSt chicken is 
half vinegar, half rosewater and press, etc. Item, 
orange juice is good thereto. 


How to Prepare Viands 

Boiled Sauces. 

Note that in July the old verjuice is very weak and 
the new is too crude ; wherefore in the vintage season, 
verjuice half old and half new mixed is the be£I. Item , 
in pottage you dilute it with vegetable water, but in 
January, February, etc., the new is the beft. 

Yellow or Sharp Pepper. Take ginger and saffron, 
then take toafted bread moistened with sewe of meat 
(or £H11 better with vegetable sewe) and boil and when 
it boils add the vinegar. 

Black Pepper. Take clove and a little pepper and 
ginger and bray them well ; then bray burnt bread 
dipped in this sewe of meat or thin vegetable water, 
which is better, then let them be boiled in an iron pan 
and when it boils put in vinegar ; then put it into a 
pot on the fire to keep hot. Item some add cinnamon 

Galentine for Carp. Bray saffron, ginger, clove, 
grain [of Paradise], long pepper and nutmegs and 
moiften with the greasy sewe in which the carp has 
been cooked, and add thereto verjuice, wine and vinegar 
and let it be thickened with a little toasted bread, well 
brayed and colourless (nathless strained bread maketh 
the beft sauce) and let it all be boiled and poured over 
the cooked fish, then put on to plates. It is good 
warmed up on a dish on the grill, better than quite 
cold. Note that it is fair and good without saffron and 
note that it sufficeth to set on each plate two slices of 
carp and four fried gudgeons. 

Saupiquet for Coney, River Fowl or Wood 
Pigeons. Fry onions in good fat, or mince them and 



The Goodman of Paris 

set them to cook in the dripping pan with sewe of 
beef, and add not verjuice or vinegar until it boils, 
and then add half verjuice and half wine and a little 
vinegar, and let the spices be ftrongeft. Then take 
half wine and half verjuice and a little vinegar, and 
set all in the frying pan beneath the coney, pigeon or 
river fowl, and when they be cooked, boil the sauce 
and have some pieces of toa£fc and put them in with 
the birds. 

CalimafrIe or Lazy Sauce (Saulce Paresseuse). 
Take mustard and powdered ginger and a little vinegar 
and the greasy sewe of the carp and boil them together ; 
and if you would make this sauce for a capon, instead 
of putting the greasy sewe of the carp, put verjuice, 
vinegar and the fat of the capon. 

Jance of Cows’ Milk. Bray ginger, yolks of eggs 
without the germ, and pass them through the strainer 
with cows’ milk ; or in case it should turn, let the yolks 
of cooked eggs be taken and then brayed and passed 
through the strainer ; moiften with cows’ milk and 
boil well. 

Garlic Jance (Jance a Aulx). Bray ginger, garlic, 
almonds and moiften with good verjuice and then boil ; 
and some put in a third part of white wine. 

Jance is made in this manner : take almonds, set 
them in hot water, peel them and bray them and 
likewise two heads of ginger ; or put therewith spice 
powder, a little garlic and white bread, rather more 
than the almonds and let it not be burnt but moistened 
with white verjuice and the fourth part of white wine ; 
strain it, boil it well and serve it forth in bowls. And 
you mtft serve more of this than of other sauces. 

How to Prepare Viands 

A Poitevine Sauce. Bray ginger, cloves, grain [of 
Paradise] and some livers, then take it out of the mortar; 
then bray toafted bread, wine and verjuice and water 
in equal quantities, and boil them, with the fat of the 
roaft and then pour it over your roaft or serve in bowls. 

Must for Young Capons (Moust Pour H£tou- 
deaux). Take new and black grapes and crush them 
in a mortar and boil them once and then run them 
through a strainer ; and then sprinkle spice powder 
over them, a little ginger and more cinnamon, or 
cinnamon alone, because that is better, and mix a little 
in a silver spoon and throw therein little crufts, or 
brayed bread, or eggs or cheftnuts to bind it ; brown 
sugar and serve forth. 

Item , if you want to make this sauce after St John’s 
Day and before that there be any grapes, you muft 
make it of cherries, wild cherries, quinces, mulberry 
wine, with powder of cinnamon and no ginger or very 
little, boil as above and then sprinkle sugar thereon. 

Item, after that no more grapes are to be had, scilicit 
in November, the muft is made of wild sloes, with the 
ftones taken out, then brayed or broken up in the 
mortar, boiled with the shells, ftrained, spice powder 
added and the reft as above. 

Quick Sauce for a Capon. Have some fair clean 
water and set it in the dripping pan below the capon 
while it roafteth, and sprinkle the capon with it con- 
tinually, then bray a sprig of garlic and moiften it with 
this water and boil ; then serve forth. It is good as 
jance, if you have none. 

Sauce to be put to boil in Pasties of Halebrans, 
Ducklings, Little Rabbits and Wild Cqneys. Take 


The Goodman of Paris 

plenty of good cinnamon, ginger, cloves, grain [of 
Paradise], half a nutmeg and mace and galingale, and 
bray them very well, moiSl en them with equal quantities 
of verjuice and vinegar and let the sauce be clear. And 
when the paSfy is about cooked, pour the sauce therein 
and set it in the oven again to boil once only. 

(Note that Halebrans be little ducklings which cannot 
fly until they have had the August rains.) 

And note that in winter you put more ginger for the 
spice to be stronger, for all sauces ought to be Stronger 
in winter than in summer. 

A Boar’s Tail (Une Queue de Sanglier). Take 
umbles of pigs, hares and river fowl and set them on the 
spit with a dripping pan below and real wine and 
vinegar. Then take grain [of Paradise], ginger, clove, 
nutmegs, long pepper and cinnamon and bray them 
and take them out of the mortar ; then bray toaSfed 
bread moistened with wine and run through the 
Strainer ; then pour all the liquid into the dripping 
pan and the spices and bread into an iron pan or pot, 
with sewe of meat, and put therein whatsoever roaSt 
you are cooking and Stick it firSt all over with cloves. 

Note that nutmegs, mace and galingale make the 
head to ache. 

Sauce for a Capon or Hen. Set a very small 
quantity of breadcrumbs to soak in verjuice and saffron 
and bray them ; then put them in the dripping pan, with 
four parts of verjuice and the fifth part of the fat of the 
hen or capon and not more, for more would be too much, 
and boil it in the dripping pan and serve it forth in bowls. 

Sauce for Eggs Poached in Oil. Have onions 
Rooked and parboiled for a long time like cabbage, then 

How to Prepare Viands 

fry them ; afterwards empty the pan wherein you have 
fried your eggs so that nothing remain therein, and in 
it put water and onions and a fourth part of vinegar, to 
wit, let the vinegar form a fourth part of the whole, 
and boil it and pour it over your eggs. 

Beverages for the Sick. 

Tizanne Doulce. Take water and boil it, then for 
each setter [here no doubt the sesier of 8 pints ] of water 
put in a bowl heaped with barley, and it matters not 
if it be hulls and all, and two parisis [zfd.] worth of 
liquorice, item, figs, and let it be boiled till the barley 
bursts ; then let it be drained through two or three 
pieces of linen, and in each goblet put great plenty of 
crystallised sugar. Then the barley is good to give to 
poultry to eat to fatten them. 

Note that the good liquorice is the neweSt and it is 
a fresh greenish colour, and the old is more faded and 
dead and is dry. 

Bochet. To make six seSters of bochet take six pints 
of very soft honey and set it in a cauldron on the fire, 
and boil it and Stir it for as long as it goes on rising and 
as long as you see it throwing up liquid in little bubbles 
which burSt and in burSting give off a little blackish 
Steam ; and then move it, and put in seven seSters of 
water and boil them until it is reduced to six seSters, 
always Stirring. And then put it in a tub to cool until 
it be juSt warm, and then run it through a sieve, and 
afterwards put it in a cask and add half a pint of leaven 
of beer, for it is this which makes it piquant (and if 
you put in leaven of bread, it is as good for the taSte, 
but the colour will be duller), and cover it warmly and 


The Goodman of Paris 

well when you prepare it. And if you would make it 
very good, add thereto an ounce of ginger, long pepper, 
grain of Paradise and cloves, as much of the one as of 
the other, save that there shall be less of the cloves, 
and put them in a linen bag and caff it therein. And 
when it hath been therein for two or three days, and 
the brochet tastes enough of the spices and is sufficiently 
piquant, take out the bag and squeeze it and put it in 
the other barrel that you are making. And thus this 
powder will serve you well two or three times over. 

Pottages for the Sick. 

Flemish Caudle (Chaudeau Flament). Set a pot 
of water to boil, then for each bowl beat up four yolks 
of eggs with white wine and let it run slowly into your 
water and ffir it very well, and put in salt to the right 
amount ; and when it has well boiled take it from off 
the fire. 

Note. If you are only making one bowl for a sick 
person you muff put in five yolks. 

Milk of Almonds. Parboil and peel your almonds 
and set them in cold water, then bray them and moiffen 
them with water in which onions have been cooked 
and run through a ffrainer ; then fry the onions and 
put a little salt therein, and boil it on the fire, and then 
add sops. And if you are making milk of almonds for 
the sick, do not put in onions and instead of using water 
of onions to moiffen the almonds as is aforesaid, moiffen 
them with clean warm water and boil it and put in no 
salt, but plenty of sugar. And if you want to make it 
for drinking, run it through the ffrainer or through two 
pieces of linen, and add plenty of sugar to the drink. 


How to Prepare Viands 

Chicken Mould (Coulis d’un Poulet). Cook the 
chicken until it is all soft, and bra y it with all its bones 
in a mortar, then moiden it with its own gravy, strain 
it and add sugar. 

Note that the bones ought to be boiled fird, then 
taken out of the mortar, drained and the mortar 
cleaned ; then bray the meat and great plenty of sugar. 

Note that after the great heats of June, spiced 
pottages come into season, and after St Remy’s Day 
(Odd. id) civey of veal, hare, oyders, etc. 

Other Small Things that be Needful. 

This is the manner of Making Preserves (Com- 
post). Note that it mud be begun on St John’s 
Day, which is the 24th day of June. 

Fird, you shall take 500 new nuts towards St John’s 
Day, and look that the shell and the kernel be not yet 
formed, nor the shell too hard or too soft as yet, and 
pierce them in three places right through or in a cross. 
Then set them to soak in Seine water or spring water 
and change it daily ; and they mud be soaked for ten 
or twelve days, until they become black and you can 
tade no bitterness when you bite them ; then set them 
to boil for a while in sweet water, for the space of time 
wherein you can say a Miserere , 1 or as long as you shall 
see is needful, that they be neither too hard nor too 
soft. Afterwards empty away the water, and set them 
to drain upon a sieve, and then melt a seder of honey, 
or as much as shall suffice to deep them all therein and 
let it be liquid and well skimmed ; and when it shall 
have cooled down until it is jud warm, put your nuts 
therein and leave them for two or three days, and then 


The Goodman of Paris 

set them to drain. Take as much of your honey as they 
may soak in, and set the honey on the fire, and bring 
it well up to the boil once only, and skim it, and take 
it off the fire ; and in each of the holes in your nuts set 
a clove on the one side and a crumb of ginger on the 
other, and afterwards put them in the honey as long 
as it shall be warm. And you shall turn them twice 
or thrice a day, and at the end of three days take them 
out ; and boil the honey again and if there be not 
enough add some more and boil and skim and boil it, 
then put your nuts into it ; and so every week for a 
month. Then leave them in an earthen pot or in a 
little cask, and turn it once a week. 

Towards All Saints’ Day [Nov. ift] take large turnips 
and peel them and cut them into four pieces and set 
them to cook in water ; and when they have been 
cooking for a short while, take them out and put them 
in cold water to make them tender, and then set them 
to drain ; and take honey and melt it as you did for 
the nuts, and be careful not to cook your turnips too 

Item at the season of All Saints, you shall take as 
many carrots as you will, and scrape them well and cut 
them into pieces, and cook them like the turnips. 
(Carrots be red roots which be sold in handfuls in the 
market, for a silver penny a handful.) 

Item, take choke pears (■ foires d’angoisse) and cut them 
into four quarters, and cook them like the turnips and 
peel them not ; and do them no more and no less than 
the turnips. 

Item, when pumpkins be in season, take neither the 
hardest nor the softest among them, and peel them, and 


How to Prepare Viands 

take out the centre, and cut them into quarters, and 
do as with the turnips. 

Item , when peaches be in season, take the hardest and 
peel and cut them. 

Item , towards St Andrew’s Dap [Nov. 30th] take 
roots of parsley and fennel, and scrape them over, and 
divide them into little pieces, and cut through the 
fennel and take out the hard centre, but do not take 
out that of the parsley, and do everything as for the 
things abovesaid no more and no less. 

And when all your preserves are ready, you can do 
what is required, according to the recipe which follows ; 

FirSt, for every 500 nuts take a pound of muftard 
seed and half a pound of anise, a quarter and a half of 
fennel, a quarter and a half of coriander, a quarter and 
a half of carroways, to wit a seed which is eaten in 
comfits, and powder them all up ; and then bray them 
all in a muStard-mill and soak them well in very good 
vinegar and set them in an earthen pot. And then 
take half a pound of horse radish, to wit a root which 
is sold by herbalists, and scrape it well and cut it up as 
small as you can, and grind it in a muStard-mill, and 
soak in vinegar. Item , take half a quarter of clove 
wood, called Hem of cloves, half a quarter of cinnamon, 
half a quarter of pepper, half a quarter of ginger, half 
a quarter of nutmeg, half a quarter of grain of Paradise, 
and reduce them all to powder. Item, take half an 
ounce of saffron of Ort 1 dried and pounded, and an 
ounce of red cedar, to wit a wood which is sold by 
spicers and it is called “ cedar from which knife sheaths 
be made And then take twelve pounds of good 
honey, thick and white, and melt it on the fire and 


The Goodman of Paris 

when it is well cooked and skimmed, let it settle, then 
ftrain it and cook it again, and if it scums, you mu£t 
strain again or allow it to get cold ; then fleep your 
muftard in good red wine and vinegar in equal parts 
and put it in the honey. You shall moiften your 
powders with wine and vinegar and put them in honey, 
and boil your cedars awhile in hot wine, and after- 
wards put the saffron with the other things and a 
handful of coarse salt. Item and this done, take two 
pounds of the raisins which be called raisins of Digne, 
to wit small ones, with no pips or seeds of any sort 
therein, and let them be fresh, and bray them well in 
a mortar and soak them with good vinegar, then run 
them through a sfrainer and put them with the other 
things. Item , if you add thereto four or five pints 
of mu£t or boiled wine, the sauce will be all the 

quinces and peel them, then cut them into quarters 
and take out the eye at the end and the pips, then boil 
them in good red wine and then let them be run through 
a strainer ; then take honey and boil it for a long time 
and skim it and afterwards set your quinces therein and 
ftir them well up and boil until the honey is reduced 
to half the amount ; then caft therein powdered 
hippocras, and ftir until it is quite cold, then cut it 
into pieces and keep it. 

Fine [Spice] Powder. Take of white ginger an 
ounce and a dram, of selected cinnamon a quarter, of 
cloves and grain [of Paradise] each half a quarter of an 
ounce, and of lump sugar a quarter and reduce them to 


How to Prepare Viands 

Nut Jam. Take new nuts before St John’s Day, and 
peel and pierce them, and set them to soak in fresh 
water, for nine days and each day renew the water ; 
then let them dry, and fill the holes with sticks of clove 
and ginger and set them to boil in honey, and leave 
them therein as a conserve. 

To prepare Water for Washing the Hands at 
Table. Set sage to boil, then pour out the water and 
let it cool until it is ju£l warm. Or you may instead 
use camomile or marjoram, or you may put in rose- 
mary ; and boil them with orange peel. And bay 
leaves too are good. 

Hippocras. To make powdered hippocras, take a 
quarter of very fine cinnamon seledled by tailing it, 
and half a quarter of fine flour of cinnamon, an ounce 
of selected string ginger (gingembre de mesche ), fine 
and white, and an ounce of grain [of Paradise,] a sixth 
of nutmegs and galingale together, and bray them all 
together. And when you would make your hippocras, 
take a good half ounce of this powder and two quarters 
of sugar and mix them with a quart of wine, by Paris 
measure. And note that the powder and the sugar 
mixed together is [hight] the Duke’s powder. 

For a quart or a quarter of hippocras by the measure 
of Beziers, Carcassonne or Montpellier, take five drams 
of fine cinnamon, selected and peeled ; white ginger 
selected and pared 3 drams ; of cloves, cardamom, 
mace, galingale, nutmegs, nard, altogether a dram and 
a quarter, moft of the firfl and less of each of the others 
in order. Let a powder be made thereof, and with it 
put a pound and half a quarter (by the heavy weight) 
of lump sugar, brayed and mingled with the aforesaid 

The Goodman of Paris 

spices ; and let wine and sugar be set and melted on a 
dish on the fire, and mixed therewith ; then put it 
in the ftrainer, and strain it until it runs a clear red. 
Note , that the sugar and the cinnamon ought to 

Sage. To make a little cask of sage, take two pounds 
of sage and cut off the ffems, then put the leaves into 
the cask. Item, have half an ounce of cloves in a linen 
bag and hang it within the cask by a cord ; item, you 
may put in half an ounce of bay ; item, half a quarter 
of firing ginger, half a quarter of long pepper and half 
a quarter of bay. And he that would have sage on the 
table in winter, let him have an ewer of sage water 
and pour it upon his white wine in a hanap. 

To make White Wine Red at Table, take in 
summer the red flowers that grow in the corn and be 
called perceau or neele or passer osep and let them dry 
until they can be made into powder, and ca£t it privily 
into the glass with the wine and the wine will become 

If you would have Verjuice at Christmas from 
your Vine Arbour, when you see the grape opening 
before it is in flower, cut it off by the ftem and the 
third time let it grow till Christmas. Master Jehan 
de Hautecourt says that one ought to cut the sffock 
below the grape and the other shoot beneath will put 
out new grapes. 

If you would have Choke Pears of a Red Colour 
in November and December, put hay to cook, and 
cover the pot so that no smoke cometh forth. Note 
that it behoves you to put on the pears fennel seed 
boiled in new wine and then dried, or comfits. 


How to Prepare Viands 

To make White Salt, take a pint of coarse salt and 
three pints of water, and set them on the fire until the 
salt is melted in the water, then strain it through a 
cloth, towel, or sifter, then set it on the fire and boil 
it well and skim it, and let it go on boiling until it is 
quite dry and the little grains that have been throwing 
up water be dry ; then turn the salt out of the pan and 
spread it on a cloth to dry in the sun. 

To write on Paper a Letter which None shall see 
if the Paper be not Heated, take sal ammoniac and 
moiften and melt it in water ; then write therewith 
and let it dry. And this will lall for about eight days. 

To make Glue, it behoves you peel holly when it is 
at the sap (which is commonly from the month of May 
up to August) and then boil the bark in water until the 
topmost layer separates ; then peel it off, and when it is 
peeled, wrap up that which remains in elder leaves 
or other large leaves, and set it in some cool place, as 
in a cellar, or within the earth, or in a cold dung heap, 
for the space of nine daps or more, until it be decayed. 
And then behoveth it to pound it like brayed cabbage 
and to make it up into cakes like woad, and then go 
wash the cakes one after another, and break them up 
like wax ; and let them not be too much washed in the 
fir£t water, nor in too hard a water. And after 
you may break it all up together and knead it in 
running water and put it in a pot and keep it well 

And he who would make glue for water, let him warm 
a little oil and therein melt his glue ; and then lime 
his line. 

Item, another sort of glue is made from corn. 


The Goodman of Paris 

If You would keep Roses Red, take a dozen buds 
and put them together as in a ball, and then cover them 
round with linen and tie them up with thread into a 
ball and make as many balls as you would preserve 
roses ; and then set then in a crock of Beauvais earthen- 
ware and of none other, and fill it with verjuice ; and 
as the verjuice is sucked up fill it up again, but let the 
verjuice be very good. And when you would have 
the buds full blown, take them out of the bags and set 
them in warm water and let them soak for a little. 

Item , to keep roses in another manner, take as many 
buds as you would, and put them into a bottle of 
Beauvais earthenware, as many as you can get in. 
Afterwards take some of the loosest sand that you can 
have, and put as much of it as you can into the bottle 
and then ftop it up well, so that nothing can pass in or 
out, and set the bottle in running water ; and the rose 
will keep fresh there for the whole year. 

To make Rosewater without Lead Alembic take 
a barber’s basin, and cover it with a kerchief spread 
right over the mouth in the manner of a drum, and then 
lay your roses on the kerchief, and above your roses 
set the bottom of another basin filled with hot cinders 
and live charcoal. 

To make Rosewater withour either Lead Alembic 
or Fire take two glass basins and do as is said at the 
back of this page [i.e. above] and instead of ashes and 
charcoal, set it in the sun ; and in the heat thereof 
the water will be made. 

The roses of Provins be the be£l for putting in 
dresses, but they muft be dried and sifted through a 
sieve at mid- August so that the worms fall through the 


How to Prepare Viands 

holes of the sieve, and after that spread it over the 

To make Red Rose Water. Take a glass flask and 
fill it half full of good rose water and fill the other half 
with red roses, to wit with the petals of young roses, 
from which you shall have cut off the end of the petal, 
which is white, and leave it nine days in the sun and 
nine nights likewise, and then pour it out. 

To make Birds Lay and Sit and Rear Young in 
an Aviary. Note that in the Hesdin 1 aviary, which is 
the largest in this realm, and in the king’s aviary at 
Saint-Pol 2 , and in Messire Hugues Aubriot’s 3 aviary, 
they were never able to make birds sit and rear little 
ones ; and in Chariot’s 4 aviary they . do so, scilicet 
laying, sitting and feeding. In the firSt case the fault 
lieth in that the little birds be fed upon hempseed, which 
is hot and dry, and they have nought to drink. And in 
the second case, they be given chickweed or groundsel, 
sow thistles set in water ever fresh and constantly 
renewed, changed thrice a day and in clean leaden 
vessels, and therein with the chickweed and the 
groundsel all green, all field thi Sties with their Stems 
well moiStened in water, and hempseed sorted and 
broken up, with the shells removed, and moiStened 
with water. Item, let carded wool and feathers be 
put in the aviary to make their neSts. And thus have I 
seen turtledoves, linnets and goldfinches lay and rear 
their young. Item, you should also give them cater- 
pillars, worms, flies, spiders, grasshoppers, butterflies, 
fresh hemp in leaf, moiStened and soaked. Item, 
spiders, caterpillars and such like things which be soft 
to the little bird’s beak, which is tender. 

The Goodman of Paris 

(And with such things do the peacocks feed their 
chicks, for you have often seen a hen. sit upon a pea- 
hen’s eggs with her own, and the shells break at the 
same time, but the little peacocks cannot live long for 
their beaks be too tender, and the hen doth not seek 
soft things for them according to their nature ; and 
the chickens live well on corn or soft pa£te, which is not 
so meet a food for peacocks. Again, you will see that 
though you give a hen the best corn and the be£f sifted 
in the world, she will scratch it to find worms or flies.) 

Item, at the end of April it behoves to go to the 
woods to seek branches forked with three forks, and 
nail them to the wall and cover them with other 
greenery, and within the fork the birds make their 

To Cure Toothache. Take a covered earthenware 
pot, or a pot without a lid with a trencher over it, and 
fill it with water and set it to boil ; then undress and 
go to bed and let your head be well covered, and the 
take the covered pot and let it be well covered all over, 
with a hole in the middle, or let it be covered with a 
trencher pierced in the middle. And hold your 
teeth against the hole, with your mouth wide open, in 
order to breathe the fteam of the water passing through 
the hole, and let sage and other herbs beset therein and 
keep yourself well covered up. 

To make Sand for Hourglasses. Take the grease 
which comes from the sawduft of marble when those 
great tombs of black marble be sawn, then boil it well 
in wine like a piece of meat and skim it, and then set 
it to dry in the sun ; and boil, skin and dry nine times ; 
and thus it will be good. 


How to Prepare Viands 

Poisons for Slaying a Stag or a Boar. Take the 
root of the herb aconite, which hath a blue flower, and 
bray it in a mortar and put it in a bag or a piece of 
cloth, and wring it to get out the juice ; and set this 
juice in a basin in the sun, and at nightfall set it 
under cover in a dry place that neither water nor any 
other dampness get to it, and go on putting it back into 
the warmth of the sun until it has become a thick jelly, 
like gummed wax, and put it in a well closed box. 
And when you would use it for shooting, smear it 
between the barbs and the iron socket, so that when 
the beaft is wounded, it enters into the flesh, for if 
you do otherwise, to wit if you otherwise anoint the 
iron, when it enters into the beaffc’s hide the ointment 
remains in the hide and the hit is of no avail. 

Medicine to Cure the Bite of a Dog or another 
Mad Beast. Take a cruft of bread and write what 
follows : f Beliera \beHie f nay \brigonay \diftera 
fsagragan fes fdomina \jiat \jiat ^jiat f. 

To separate Water from Wine. Put water and 
wine in a cup and have a thread of cotton and plunge 
one end thereof to the bottom of the cup and let the 
other end hang over the edge and below and outside 
the cup, and you will see that the water will run 
colourless along the thread. And when the water has 
all dripped away, you will see the wine begin to drip 
red. (It would seem that the same could he done with a 
cask of wine.) 

Wafers (Gauffres) be made in five ways. By one 
method you beat up the eggs in a bowl, then add salt 
and wine and throw in flour, and mix them, and then 
put them on two irons, little by little, each time as 



The Goodman of Paris 

much pafte as the size of a leche or ffcrip of cheese, and 
press them between the two irons and cook on both 
sides ; and if the iron doth not separate easily from the 
pafte, grease it beforehand with a little cloth moistened 
in oil or fat. The second method is like to the firff, 
but you put in cheese, that is to wit you spread out the 
pafte as though to make a tart or pa fty, and then you 
add the cheese in leches in the middle and cover the 
two ends ; this the cheese remaineth between the two 
pastes and is this set between two irons. The third 
method is that of Strained Waffles ( Gaujfres couleisses ) 
and they be called Hrained for this reason only, that the 
pafte is clearer and it as it were boiled clear, after the 
aforesaid manner ; and onto it one scatters grated 
cheese ; and all is mixed together.— The fourth method 
is flour made into a paifte with water, salt and wine 
without either eggs or cheese. 

Item, the wafer makers make another kind called big 
Hicks ( gros batons'), which be made of flour made into 
a paffe with eggs and powdered ginger beaten together, 
and then made of like size and in like manner to 
chitterlings, between two irons. 

Other Small Matters which need no Chapter 

To keep all Pottages Fresh without adding or 
taking away anything. Take a fair white cloth and 
set it upon your pot and turn it often ; and the pot 
muff be kept away from the fire. 

Pottage. Take a fresh pot and put your pottage 
therein, then take a little yeaff and tie it in a white 
cloth and put it into your pot and do not let it remain 
there long. 


How to Prepare Viands 

To make a Liquid for Marking Linen. Take 
coom, that is the black grease that is at the two ends 
of the axle of a cart and add ink and oil and vinegar 
and boil all together, and then warm your mark and 
dip it therein and ftamp it onto your linen . 1 

If Thou wouldst make a Good Kindling to light 
the fire with a fteel, take the old bark of a nut tree 
and then put it in a pot full of very strong lye, whole 
or in pieces the size of two fingers, whichever thou 
doft prefer, and keep it boiling for the space of two days 
and a night at the leaft. And if thou haft no lye, then 
take good ashes and put them with water and make a 
thick pafte thereof, and then set your bark to boil 
therein for the aforesaid time, and keep on mixing it as 
it boils. If thou art boiling it in lye, mix it with lye, 
if thou art boiling it in ashes, mix it with water ; and 
nathless whatever thou art boiling it in, if thou cannot 
procure wine to mix with it, it will be all the better. 
And when it has thus boiled, press out the moifture 
and then wash it in fair, clean water, ready to dry it 
again, and then set it to dry in the sun or in the 
chimney corner, away from the fire, so that it burn not, 
for it muft be dried slowly and at leisure. And when it 
is dry and it is desired to use it, then it muft be beaten 
with a hammer or a ftock, until it becometh like unto 
a sponge. And when thou wouldft light a fire, then take 
a piece the size of a pea, and set it on thy flint and 
forthwith thou shalt have fire ; and it needeth only 
to have lighted wicks and to light the candle. And 
it muft be kept clean and dry. 

To make Candied Orange Peel, cut the peel of an 
orange into five pieces and scrape away the loose skin 


The Goodman of Paris 

inside with a knife, then set them to soak in good, fresh 
water for nine days and change the water daily ; 
then boil them, letting them come once to the boil 
only, in fresh water, and this done, spread them on a 
cloth and let them dry thoroughly, then put them in a 
pot of honey until they be quite covered therewith, 
and boil on a slow fire and skim. And when you think 
that the honey is cooked (to try if it be cooked, have 
some water in a spoon, and pour a drop of the honey 
into the water and if it spreads it is not done, and if the 
drop of honey remains in the water without spreading, 
then it is done), then you muSt take out your pieces of 
orange peel and set out a layer in order and sprinkle 
powdered ginger thereon, then another layer, and 
sprinkle etc., usque in infinitum ; and leave them for a 
month or more and then eat them. 

To make Sausages. When you have killed your 
pig, take the flesh of the ribs . . . and the beSt 

fat, as much of the one as of the other, in such quantity 
as you would make sausages ; and cause it to be minced 
and hashed up very small by a pastrycook. Then bray 
fennel and a little fine salt, and afterwards take your 
brayed fennel and mix it very well with a quarter as 
much of fine [spice] powder ; then mix thoroughly 
your meat, your spices and your fennel and afterwards 
fill the intestines, to wit the small ones. (And know 
that the intestines of an old pig be better for this, than 
those of a young one, because they be larger). And 
afterwards put them in the smoke for four days or 
more and when you would eat them, put them in hot 
water and boil them once and then put them on the 


How to Prepare Viands 

To take Salt out of Butter, put it in a bowl on the 
fire to melt and the salt will precipitate at the bottom 
of the bowl, and salt thus precipitated is good for 
pottage ; and the reft of the butter remaineth sweet. 
Otherwise put pour salt butter in fresh sweet water 
and rub and knead it with pour hands therein and the 
salt will remain in the water. 

{Item, note that flies will never swarm on a horse 
that is greased with butter or with old salt grease.) 

Magpies, Crows, Jackdaws. These be slain with 
the arrows of a crossbow, the which are blunt ; and with 
weak crossbows pou map shoot at those crows that be 
on the branches, but those that be in their nefls must be 
shot at with stronger bolts to bring down neft and all. 
Thep should be skinned, then parboiled with bacon 
and then cut up into pieces and fried with eggs like 
shredded meat {char-pies). 

Rique-menger. Take two apples as big as two eggs 
or a little bigger and peel them and take out the pips, 
then cut them up into little slices and set them to boil 
in an iron pot, then pour awap the water and set the 
rique-manger to drp. Then frp butter and while pou 
are frping it break two eggs into it and ftir them up ; 
and when it is fried sift a fine [spice] powder onto it 
and colour it with saffron and eat it on bread in the 
month of September. 

Roast Hare. I have seen a hare roafted in the skin 
of a pig’s frp, that is called the caul, and it cofts three 
silver pence, wherefore the hare is not larded otherwise. 
Item, I have seen it larded. 

Farced Chickens, Coloured or Glazed. Thep be 
firft blown up and all the flesh within taken out, then 


The Goodman of Paris 

filled up with other meat, then coloured or glazed as 
above ; but there is too much to do, it is not a work for 
a citizen’s cook, nor even for a simple knight’s ; and 
therefore I leave it. 

Item Des Espaules de Mouton, quia nichil esl nisi 
pena et labor. (And the same concerning shoulders of 
mutton, for it is nought but pain and trouble.) 

Item Hedgehogs can be made out of mutton tripe 
and it is a great expense and a great labour and little 
honour and profit, wherefor nichil hie. 

To Hull Barley or Corn to make Frumenty. 
You muft have very hot water and put the corn or 
barley in it, and wash and knead it long and carefully; 
then pour and drain away all the water and let the corn 
or barley dry and then bray it with a wooden peffcle, 
then winnow it in a washing basin. 



[In the following notes those which are followed by the initials [J.Pl\ 
are translated and sometimes condensed from the notes of the French 
editor Jerome Fichon. The reft are my ownf] 


1 Page i. Pichon fixes the date as follows: “The MSnagier de 
Paris is evidently one of the results of the literary movement of 
Charles V’s reign and the impulse, given by the king’s encouragement, 
to everyone to write upon the subject which he liked moll and knew 
bell. The author had seen the whole reign of this great prince, 
since he was at Melun in 1358 [p. 155], at Niort in 1373 [p. 108] and 
had known Aubriot in his power [p. 303], but he did not write until 
several years after the accession of Charles VI. He speaks indeed of 
the duke of Orleans, who cannot be Philip of France, brother of king 
John, ill, because that prince, who died in 1 372, would not be referred 
to as alive in a book written after the capture of Niort ; 2nd, because 
the author who names the dukes of Berry, Burgundy and Bourbon 
in the order of their kinship with the king [p. 222] would not, if he 
had been writing in the reign of Charles V, have placed the king’s 
unde before his brothers ; 3rd, the duke of Anjou, younger brother 
of Charles V, who died in 1384, would undoubtedly have been 
mentioned in this enumeration, if it had been written before the 
year of his death ; 4th, there is an allusion in the book to a sedition which 
I believe I have proved to be that of 1382 [pp. 146, 318]. If then we 
admit (and it seems impossible to deny it) that the duke of Orleans 
mentioned in the Menagier is not Philip, king John’s brother, he can 
only be Louis, the brother of Charles VI, and since this prince, who 
was at firlk duke of Touraine, only received the title of duke of Orleans 
on June 4th, 1392, it follows that the MSnagier cannot have been 
written before June, 1 392. But neither can it be later than September, 
1394, because the author speaks of Jews “ now in this realm ” 
[p. 99] ; now the Jews were expelled by an ordinance dated the 
17th of that month, which was promptly executed, but to which he 
would certainly have made some reference in this part of his book, if 
it had been even promulgated when he wrote. The MSnagier de Paris 
was thus written between June, 1 392, and September, 1394 [J*P.] 

3 “ 

Notes to the Introduction 

3 Page i. He had read all the following books and possessed moft 
of them : the Bible, the Golden Legend , St Jerome {Lives of the Fathers ), 
St Auguftine, St Gregory, the Hiftoire sur Bible of Pierre le Mangeur , 
Livy, the Roman de la Rose , the historian Josephus, the Catholicon , 
Gratian’s Decretals , Petrarch’s Tale of Griselda, the Seven Sages of 
Rome , the Dream of Scipio (by Cicero, with the commentary of 
Macro bius), th ejeti des tehees moralist of J. de Cessoles, the Chemin de 
pauvreti et de richesse of J. Bruyant, Melibeus and Prudence . Q.P.] 

3 Page I. He had been in Beauce and Picardy, at Niort, at Bar-sur- 
Aube, at Chaumont, in Gascony, at Beziers, in Flanders and probably 
at Toumay, which he mentions several times. [J.P.] 

4 Page i. His references to the Duke of Berry are particularly 

interesting. He was with him at Niort, when he and his lords came 
to see the faithful dog on the grave of its master, who had been slain in 
battle with the English in 1 373 [pp. 108-9]. In his treatise on gardening 
he mentions that the duke of Berry had told him that the cherries 
of Auvergne were bigger than those of France (the Ile-de-France), 
because they layered their cherry trees there [p. 204] ; and in the 
course of his section on cookery he gives a detailed account of the 
consumption of food by the duke’s household, gathered from his 
servants (“ les gens de monseigneur de Berry dient . . . ”) 

{p. 222], and elsewhere remarks that at the court of lords like this 
duke they make rissoles out of beef marrow, every time that they 
slaughter an ox [p. 284]. 

5 Page 1. See pp. 108, 155 and notes. 

1 Page 2. See pp. 243. 

1 Page 7. Le Livre du Chevalier de la Tour ed A. de Montaiglon 
(1854). This k°°k was translated into English in the reign of Henry 
VI and the translation has been edited as The Book of the Knight of 
La Tour-Landry ed. Thos. Wright (E.E.T.S., 1868 ; revised edition, 
1906). It was later translated and printed by Caxton. A translation 
into German was also made in the fifteenth century and firft printed 
in 1493 * 

1 Page 11. How the Good Wife taughte hir Dough ter {c. 1430) in 
The Babees Boke , ed. F. J. Fumivall (E.E.T.S., 1868), p. 39. 

2 Page II. See below, p. 315. 

1 Page 14. From John Russell’s Boke of Nurture in Early English 
Meals and Manners , ed. F. J. Fumivall (E.E.T.S., 1894 edit.), p. 64. 

2 Page 14. Quoted from Laurens Andrewe, The Noble Lyfe and 
Natures of man, OfbeHes , serpentys, fowles and fisshes y l be moU knowen 
(a very rare black letter book). Ib ., p. 108. 

1 Page 16. Gesprachbuechlein , Romanisch und Flamisch , printed in 
Altniederldndische Sprachworter hgg. von Hoffmann von Fallersleben, 


Notes to the Introduction 

in Horae Belgica , Pt. IX (Hanover 1854), PP* ^ 3 " 95 * Yhe passage 

1 have quoted will be found on pp. 90-93. I owe my introdu&ion to 
this dialogue to a charming book by Mr Malcolm Letts, Bruges and 
her Pa& (Bruges and London, 2nd ed., 1926), pp. 158-60. See also 
F. Callaey, “ Illustrations of Social life in Belgium derived from 
French-Flemish conversation manuals of the fourteenth and six- 
teenth centuries ”. Bull, de VinH. hi ft. beige de Rome > Vol. V. 

1 Page 17. There is an article on the Menagier’s treatise on garden- 
ing in the Gardener's Chronicle , LXV (1919), p. 105, but I have not 
been able to consult it. 

1 Page 18. For an admirable collection of illustrations of gardens, 
drawn from illuminated MSS, paintings and early printed books, with 
an introduction, see the late Sir Frank Crisp’s Mediaeval Gardens 
(1924), 2 vols. 

2 Page 18. The treatises of John de Garlande and Walter de 
Biblesworth will be found in A Volume of V ’ ocabularies, ed. Thos. 
Wright (1857). Other vocabularies printed in this collection contain 
important lifts of plants. 

1 Page 19. T. H. Turner, “ Observations on the State of Horti- 
culture in England in Early Times, chiefly previous to the fifteenth 
century”. Archeeol. Joum. V (1848), p. 302. 

2 Page 19. One roll has been translated in full by the Hon. A. 
Amherft (Mrs E. Cecil) in her Hifiory of Gardening in England (3rd ed. 
I 9 10 )- 

3 Page 19. Wright, The Homes of Other Days (1871), p. 313. See 
Palladius on Hushandrie ( c . 1420), ed. B. Lodge (E.E.T.S., 1872-9, 

2 vols.). 

4 Page 19. It has been edited by the Hon. A. Amherft (Mrs E. 
Cecil) under the title “ A Fifteenth Century Treatise on Gardening 
by Mayfter Ion Gardener ” in Archceologia , vol. LIV (2nd series IV, 
1895), pp. 157-172. 

1 Page 21. See below, p. 321. 

1 Page 22. Knightes Tale , 11 . 190-197. 

1 Page 23. A Volume of Vocabularies ed. Thos. Wright (1857), 
p. 136, and see Homes of Other Days (1871), pp. 309-10. 

1 Page 24. La Maniere de Langage qui enseigne a farler et a Scrire 
le Frangais [ed. Paul Meyer] (1873), p. 395. (ExtraCi from the Revue 
Critique , 1870.) Compare the lift of herbs and vegetables in a 
fourteenth century book of dialogues in French and Flemish which 
was subsequently adapted by Caxton as a French-English manual. 
“ Under this trees Ben herbes suete smellyng. There ben roses reed, 
white, Mynte, confyte and grayne. . . . Yet Ben in the gardynes 

Rede cool [cole] and white, Porreette, oynyons, Betes, cheruyll. 


Notes to the Introduction 

persely, Sauge, ysope, tymc, Letews, porselane [purslain], kersses 
[cresses], geloffres [gillyflowers], Rapes, gharlyk,_ fenell, Spynache, 
borage.” Dialogues in French and English , by William Caxton, ed. 
H. Bradley (E.E.T.S., 1900), p. 13. 

3 Page 24. The lift is to be found in MS Sloane 1201 and was 
firft printed by Wright, Homes of Other Days (1871), p. 3 I2 > from whom 
I take it. It has been reprinted by the Hon. Mrs E. Cecil in her 
Hislory of Gardening in England, and by Sir Frank Crisp in the preface 
to his Medieval Gardens. 

1 Page 26. Loc. cit pp. 165-6. 

1 Page 27. Homes of Other Days (1871), p. 313. 

1 Page 28. Early English Miscellanies in Prose and Verse , ed. J. O. 
Halliwell (Warton Club, 1855), pp. 67-8. 

1 Page 31. Prologue, 11 . 33 3 ~ 54 * „ . , _ 

1 Page 32. Those interested may consult the following books : 
A Collection of Ordinances and Regulations for the Government of the 
Royal Household (London, Soc. of Antiquaries, 1790) ; Warner, 
Antiquitates Culinarue (1791) (contains The Forme of Cury ) ; A Noble 
Boke off Cookry , ed. Mrs Alexander Napier (1882) ; Liber Cure 
Cocorum , ed. R. Morris (Trans. Philological Soc. Suppl., 1862) ; Two 
Fifteenth Century Cookery Books , ed. T. Austin (E.E.T.S., 1888). 
Variants of the Menagier’s recipes will be found in all of these and I 
have found them of great help in translating this somewhat technical 

1 Page 34. Op. cit., pp. 33-4. 

1 Page 35 - Ih -> PP* 35 - 7 - 

1 Page 36. See A F Hie for a Bryde (at the end of a little treatise 
Ffor to serve a lord), lb., pp. 360-1. 

1 P&i e 37 * From A dynere of flesche in John Russell’s Boke of 
Nurture, op. cit., p. 50. 

1 Page 38. Prologue , 11 . 379ft. 

3 H 


1 Page 41. The Menagier always addresses his wife as ££ Si&er ”, 
which was used in a general way as a term of affe&ionate respedh It 
will be remembered that the Wife of Bath’s lafl husband addressed 
her as “ dere suffer Alisoun ” on a memorable occasion. Wife oj 
Bath's Prologue , 1 . 804. 

1 Page 43. There are only seventeen. 

1 Page 44. I do not know what is intended by puys here ; the 
exemplum referred to seems to be that on pp. 146-7. 

1 Page 45. Several of the exempla named in this sedHon have been 
omitted in the translation, viz. those of Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and 

2 Page 45. The cattle is mentioned in the poem Le Chemin de 
Pauvreti et de Richesse , by Jean Bruyant, which has been omitted in 
the translation. 

1 Page 46. See below, p. 324. 

2 Page 46. The second article relating to hawking (which is omitted 
in this translation) is the only one found in the three surviving MSS 
of the Menagier, 

x Page 50. Le colet de voftre chemise , de voHre hlanchet , ou de voftre 
cofie ou surcot. The chemise has the same significance as to-day ; 
the hlanchet was a short garment of white cloth or flannel worn over 
the chemise ; the coBe or cotte here signifies robe, and the surcot was 
an upper garment which went over it, usually not so warm and more 
elegant than a houppelande. [J.P.] 

r Page 52. Compare the knight of La Tour Landry’s remarks on 
deportment. £< Affterwarde, in sayeing youre praiers atte masse or 
in other place, be not like the crane or the tortu [tortoise] ; for thei 
are like the crane and the turtu that tumithe her hede and fases 
bacward, andlokitheouer the shuldre; and, euer fteringe with the hede 
like a vessell, hauithe youre loke and holdithe your hede ferme as a 
beft that is called a lymer [bloodhound] ; the whiche lokithe euer afore 
hym, .... euer forth right. And therfor bethe ferme and lokithe 
forthe right afore you plainly, and yf ye lu&e to loke asyde, tumithe 
youre body and uisage togedre, and so youre countenaunce shal be 
mofl ferme and sure ; for thei that lokithe bak and ar ofte Bering with 


Notes to the Text 

the hede, ar ofte scorned & mocked.” The Book of the Knight of La 
Tour-Landry, ed. T. Wright (E.E.T.S., 1868. Revised ed., 1906), 
P- 15 - 

1 Page 76. De Opere Monachorum. 

1 Page 88. The moral disease of accidia — part sloth, part ennui 
and part melancholia — has been excellently described by Chaucer, 
Persones Tale, §§53-9, and Dante has crystallised it in four lines : 

Fitti nel limo dicon : Trifti fummo 
NeP aer dolce che dal sol s’allegra, 

Portando dentro accidioso fummo : 

Or ci attriftiam nella belletta negra. 

An interesting modern ftudy of accidia is to be found in a book of 
sermons by a late Bishop of Oxford, Dr Paget, The Spirit of 
Discipline (1891), and see also H. B. Workman, The Evolution of the 
Monaftic Ideal (1913), pp. 321-31, and E. Power, Medieval English 
Nunneries (1922), pp. 293-7. 

1 Page 93. By Jacques de Voragine, Archbishop of Genoa, 

3 Page 93. By St Jerome. 

1 Page 99. The Jews were expelled from France by an ordinance 
of September x 7th, X 394, which was pun&ually executed. This passage 
is proof positive that the MSnagier was written before September, 

1394 - [J-F-] 

3 Page 99. “ A Chaldean philosopher, who, according to Jacques 

de Cessoles, author of the Game of Chess Moralised , invented the game 
of chess. The author of the Minagier is here citing Jacques de Cessoles* 
work, in which the tales of Romilda, Lucrece and Papirius occur ; 
he tells them, but develops them considerably.” [J.P.] On the 
Solacium Ludi Schaccorum , compiled by the Dominican Jacques de 
Cessoles in N. Italy before 1325, see J.-Th. Welter, VExemphm 
dans la literature religieuse et didaftique du moyen age (Paris, 192 7), 
pp. 351-4. 

3 Page 99. “ The duchess is Romilda, widow of Gisulf, duke of 
Friuli, killed in 61 1 in a battle against the Avars. After the death of 
her husband, by whom she had four sons and four daughters, she was 
besieged by the Khan of the Avars in Forojulium, to-day Civita di 
Friuli . Attracted by the appearance of the Khan, she offered him 
(not one of his lords) her position and hand ; her offer was accepted 
but when the Khan was master of the palace he had Romilda impaled 
and carried away her children and the chief citizens into captivity. 
The four princes escaped on the way. The two elder, Taso and Cacco , 
were dukes of Friuli from 621 to 635. The third, Rodoald, was duke 


Notes to the Text 

of Benerento from 642 to 647, and the youngeH, Grimoald, was duke 
of Benevento after his brother and king of the Lombards in 662, 
dying in 671. The Hory is taken from Paul Deacon.” Q.P.] 

1 Page 102. “ Les autres jouans au bric y les autres a qui fery F, 

les autres a pincc-merilleP It is not very easy to identify these 
games and doubtless they are among those which the Menagier would 
have described in his laH sedion, if he had finished it. Brie was played 
with a litde Hick ; qui firy * was evidently hot cockles ; pince mirille 
is mentioned among the games played by Gargantua [Rabelais, Bk I, 
ch. xxii] ; the player seems to have had to pinch another player’s 
arm, saying “ Merille”, but what the point of it was is unknown. 

1 Page 105. Chaucer, Legend of Good Women , 11 . 1869-70. 

Page 107. Some biblical exempla follow in the original. 

2 Page 109. “ The dukes of Berry, Burgundy and Bourbon and 
the conHable Du Guesclin conquered almoH the whole of Poitou 
from the English in 1372 ; they returned to Paris on December nth 
and on the following day the duke of Berry did homage to the king 
his brother for the county of Poitou. But Niort and a few other 
places remained in the hands of the English. Du Guesclin, having 
defeated at Chisay the English garrisons, which had united under the 
leadership of messire Jehan d’Esbreux, according to Cuvelier, dad his 
soldiers in English armour and so took Niort by surprise. According 
to Froissart, the Battle of Chisay took place on March 21H, 1372 (1373 
new Hyle), and Niort was taken by April 28th at leaH. It seems 
likely that the incident of the dog, which our author tells as an eyewitness, 
took place at Niort during the sojourn of the duke of Berry in that 
town in July, 1373 [J.P.] 

1 Page 1 13. The Hory of Griselda was firH written in Italian by 
Boccaccio and then paraphrased and put into Latin by Petrarch. It 
was several times translated into French and is familiar to all readers 
as the Clerk’s Tale in Chaucer’s Canterbury Pales . Chaucer also was 
paraphrasing Petrarch’s version in English verse ; and there is no 
better way of appreciating his surpassing genius than to compare his 
tale with that of the Menagier. Both followed their original closely, but 
Chaucer’s additions and comments, raise his version head and shoulders 
above all the others ; compare for example his treatment of the scenes 
in which Griselda’s children are taken from her ; there is hardly any 
addition but the pathos is infinitely more touching. 

1 Page 138. Nothing shows the Menagier’s good sense better than 
his comment on the tale of Griselda, which may be compared with 
the comments which Chaucer lets fall after each of the successive trials 
in his version. Chaucer’s Envoy will be remembered for a gay 
cynicism which that of the Menagier lacks : 


Notes to the Text 

Grisilde is deed and eek her pacience, 

And bo the atones buried in Itaille ; 

For which I crye in open audience 
No wedded man so hardy be t’assaille 
His wyves pacience, in hope to finde 
Grisildes, for in certein he shall faille ! 

O noble wyves, ful of heigh prudence, 

Lat noon humilitee your tonge naille, 

Ne lat no clerk have cause or diligence 
To wryte of yow a dory of swich mervaille 
As of Grisildis pacient and kinde ; 

Left Chichevache yow swelwe in hir entraille ! . . . 

1 Page 140. The Hiftoria ScolaMica of Pierre le Mangeur (Petrus 
Comedor) chancellor of the university of Paris, who died in 1 179. 
a The historical and legendary dories of the Bible had at all times a 
great attra&ion for the faithful and consequently enjoyed a legitimate 
vogue among them. From the second half of the twelfth century 
Pierre le Mangeur of Troyes, while adding profane legends and 
rabbinical fables to them, co-ordinated them chronologically in his 
famous HiBoria scolaBica , the influence of which was to be enormous, 
not only upon preachers, but also upon letters and art during the 
centuries which followed. 55 J.-Th. Welter, op . cit.> pp. 84-5, and see 
article by L. Delisle on Bibles hiBoriees et allegor isles in Hist. Litt.> 
t. xxx, pp. 218-46. A copy of the HiBoire sur Bible translated from 
Pierre le Mangeuris work by Guiart des Moulins (1291-4) was made 
about 1400 for the Duke of Berry and is now one of the treasures of 
the British Museum (Harl. MS, 438 1, 4382). 

1 Page 146. Pi chon considers that this episode probably took 
place in Paris during the aftermath of the rebellion of the maillotins, 
which broke out in Paris on March id, 1382. After Charles V (who 
was at the time a child, under the influence of his uncles) had been 
vidorious at the battle of Rosebecque (November 27th, 1382), he 
entered Paris on January Iith, 1383, and during the days which 
followed three hundred wealthy burgesses were arreded and a hundred 
were executed, the red being condemned to pay huge fines. 

1 Page 148. Pichon thinks that the bailly de ‘Ioumay here spoken 
of was probably messire Tridan de Bos, a fairly important person and 
fird bailli of Tournai, who had previously been bailli of Lille and of 
Vermandois, and was made bailli of Tournai in 1383. These dories 
of wagers to try the obedience of wives were very common in the 
middle ages. The Menagier gives two others, one the tale of the 

Notes to the Text 

abbots and the husbands and the other drawn from his own experience. 
There is an amusing one in ch. xix of The Book of the Knight of La 
Tour-Landry y ed. T. Wright (E.E.T.S., 1868, 2nd ed., 1906), pp. 26-8. 
The famous proof of Katharina by Petruchio in The Taming of the 
Shrew , AH V, Sc. 2, is familiar to all. 

1 Page 152. See p. 161. 

1 Page 155. “ The caHle of Melun and consequently that part of 

the town which lay on the Gatinois side, was surrendered to the 
Navarre troops and the English by Queen Blanche on August 4th, 
1358, four days after the death of Etienne Marcel and the re-entry 
to the Regent into Paris ; but the part of the town which lay in Brie 
remained French and messire Jean d’Andresel was from that month 
captain of Melun and Brie for the Regent. Peace was signed between 
the Regent and the king of Navarre on AuguH 2 ilk, 1359, but the 
Navarre troops were Hill in occupation of Melun in September. The 
curious adventure narrated by the author of the MSnagier muH have 
taken place between AuguH, 1358, and OHober, 1359.” [J-P*] 

1 Page 155. “Jean sire d’Andresel, knight, was sprung from an 
ancient and illuHrious family and was the eldeH son of Jean d’Andresel, 
the much-loved chamberlain of king Philippe de Valois. He was 
chamberlain to the dauphin, then to king Jean and then to Charles V. 
At leaH as early as 1346 he married Jeanne d’Arrablay, daughter of one 
of the king’s maHers of the household and niece of a chancellor of 
France. In AuguH, 1358, he was captain of Melun and Brie, and in 
AuguH, 1359, captain-general of the latter province. After the 
treaty of Bretigny he, together with several princes of the blood and 
some of the moH illuHrious lords of the period, among the hoHages 
of king Jean, taken by the king of England from Calais on OHober 31H, 
1360. He was back in France as early as the beginning of 1366, at 
leaH, because in the April of that year a second marriage contraH was 
signed between him and Jeanne de Maligny, widow of Jean lord of 
Rochefort and Puise t. He died early in 1 368 . The incident recounted 
in the MinagieP j narrative clearly refers to his firH wife, Jeanne 
d’Arrablay.” [J.P.] 

1 Page 162. This famous collection of tales was of Indian origin. 
It was composed in Latin verse under the title Kiftoria Sep tent 
Sapientum Rom <z towards the end of the twelfth century, probably 
from Hill older versions, by the CiHercian monk Jean de Haute-Seille, 
and shortly afterwards translated into French by the French poet 
Herbert, under the name of Dolopaihos. See Ward, Catalogue of 
Romances , II, 199-234. 

1 Page 168. Compare the ballad of the death of Robin Hood, who 
was bled to death by his cousin, the Prioress of Kirklees : 



« Set a chafing-dish to the fire ”, she said, 

“ And ftrip thou up th 7 sleeve.” 

I hold him but an unwise man 
That will no warning ’leeve ! 

She laid the blood-irons to Robin’s vein, 

Alack, the more pitye ! 

And pierc’d the vein and let out the blood 
That full red was to see. 

And fi rfl it bled the thick, thick blood, 

And afterwards the thin, 

And well then wifi good Robin Hood 
Treason there was within. 

1 Page 172. This was a favourite saying. Compare Chaucer’s 
use of it : “ Men seyn that thre thynges dryven a man out of his hous, — 
that is to seyn, smoke, droppyng of reyn and wikked wyves Tale of 
Melibeus , § 15 ; and 

Thou seyfl that droppyng houses and eek smoke 
And chidyng wyves, maken men to flee 
Out of his owene hous. 

— Wife of Bath’s Prologue , 11 . 278-80. 

1 Page 174. See above, p. 315, note to p. 50. 

1 Page 175. Palettes , little flat shovels, like the whisks sold for 
killing flies with to-day. 

1 Page 182. This tale was a favourite one in the middle ages and 
is found in several variants. The usual version is that a squire told 
his wife that he had laid an egg and she spread the tale. This version 
is to be found in The Book of the Knight of La Tour-Landry , ed. T. 
Wright (E.E.T.S., revised ed., 1906), pp. 96-7, in the Proptuarium 
Exemplorum (see Selection of Latin Stories , ed. T. Wright (Percy Soc. 
1842), p. 104), and in the Gefla Romanorum , ch. exxv, in which the 
knight is made to void a black crow inflead of laying an egg. It was 
told in French verse by La Fontaine, Fables , Livre viii, Fable 6 . 

1 Page 188. In the original there follows a very long exemplum, 
which' is here omitted, the tale of Melibeus and Prudence , firfl written 
in Latin in 1246 by Albertanus of Brescia and several times translated 
into French. Although intolerably dull to modem tafle, it enjoyed 
considerable success in the middle ages. Chaucer translated it into 
English prose as his own contribution to the Canterbury Tales . 

1 Page 191. “ The flory of Jehanne la Quentine was reproduced 
in the sixteenth century by queen Margaret of Navarre in her 

3 20 

Notes to the Text 

Nouvelles , but she attributes it to a bourgeoise of Tours (38th Tale, 
or 8th of the 4th day). But as the author of the MSnagier gives the 
names and says that he had it from his father, it is impossible [?] to doubt 
that it took place in Paris. The Queen of Navarre may have heard 
the £lory told by someone who read it in the Minagier , and may 
have placed the scene in Tours. She gives similarly in her 37th Tale, 
attributing it to a lady de Laval -Lou e, and with a few variations, a 
similar example of conjugal indulgence, reported by the chevalier de 
La Tour as having actually happened to his aunt, then ladv de 
Languillier.” [J.P.] The chevalier de La Tour tells (chapter xvii) 
how she had “ tolde me diuerse tymes of that she had suffered. She 
was a ladi of Fraunce, that might spende more thanne fyue hundred 
pounde bi yeere, and helde a noble estate, and she had a knight to her 
husbond that was merueilously lecherous, the whiche had eueri day 
in his hous one or two women besides the lady his wiff. And ofte 
tyme he rose from her to go lyge with his leude women, and all wey, 
whanne he come agein from hem to bedde, he fonde euer the candell 
light, and water to wasshe his hondes, and he saide he come from the 
priue. And thanne saide the ladi, £ somoche haue ye the more nede 
to wasshe you 5 ; and she saide neuer no thing ellys to hym, but yef 
it were atte sum tyme whanne thei were meri and allone, she wolde 
sale, * Syr, y know all youre doinge by suche women and suche, but 
sethe it ys youre lu£fc, and that y may sette no remedie thereon, y will 
make you nor them neuer the worse chere ; For y were a foie to slee 
my selff for youre sportes. But y praie you, sethe it is well, that ye 
make me neuer the worse chere, and that y lese not youre loue, nor 
that ye make me not the worse semblaunt, and of the remenaunt y 
reporte me to you, y woll suffre it\ And so with her goodly wordes 
he repented hym, and was conuerted in goodnesse atte the lafte, and 
he dede nomore euell ; and thus with fairenesse she ouercome hym 
The Book of the Knight of La Tour -Landry, ed. T. Wright (E.E.T.S., 
1868, revised ed., 1906), pp. 23-4. 

1 Page 194. In the original this is followed by a very long moral 
and allegorical poem (here omitted) entitled Le Chemin de Povrete 
et de Richesse, by Jean Bruyant, king’s notary at the Chatelet in Paris, 
and written in 1342. The Menagier sets it forth at length fiC to show 
the diligence and perseverence that the newly wed ought to display ” 
and it forms the whole of the firft article of his second section. 

1 Page 19 6. Porrte is used in the middle ages of beets, spinach or 
green vegetables in general, or of the soup made therefrom ; the word 
porray or poret (as well as the usual worts) is found in English, e.g. in 
a fifteenth century Nominate under the heading De Speciebus liguminis 
we find “ Nec port eta , port ay A Volume of Vocabularies, ed. Thomas 

3 21 


Notes to the Text 

Wright (1857), p. 241. Compare Langland : “ With grene poret and 
peson to poysoun hunger thei thought”. 

2 Page 196. Marquets che veins. The words chevelne and marquet 
or marcotte or margoute both mean a layer, viz. <c a shoot or twig of a 
plant fastened down and partly covered with earth in order that it 
may strike root while ftill attached to the parent £t ock and so propagate 
the plant ” (O.E.D.). The word usually applies to vines. 

1 Page 197. The Armenian violet is possibly, Pichon thinks, what 
we know as the Parma violet. 

1 Page 198. “ This is the famous Bureau de la Riviere, Charles V’s 
favourite, who died August 1 6th, 1400, and was buried in the abbey 
of Saint-Denis. The Avignon lettuce would seem to be the same as 
our Roman lettuce, the only lettuce with white seed, which was 
already known in the sixteenth century.” [J.P.] 

2 Page 198. i.e., so that the water might fall drop by drop onto the 
roots of the plant. 

1 Page 199. It is rather difficult to translate the Menagier’s 
different cabbages. Further on, in speaking of pottages, he dis- 
tinguishes five sorts of cabbage (1) choulx blanc (white cabbages), 
which he here says are identical with choulx cabus (headed cabbage or 
cabbage heads). (2) pommes de chou or choulxpommSs (cabbage hearts), 
(3) choulx Romains (roman cabbages), (4) minces (sprouts), and (5) 
choulx pasqueris (Easier cabbages, i.e. to be eaten at the Easter season). 

1 Page 202. Compare the inffcradtions in an English treatise of 
about the same date. “ To make cheris to growe withowte £tonys. 
Cleve a yonge schote of a yonge cherytre that is a spanne longe or ij. 
fro the toppe evene downe to the rote, but let hym £tond ftylle on the 
ftalke, and thanne drawe owte the pyth one every syd with some maner 
of iryne, and anone joyne every perty togedyre, and bynd hem welle, 
and donge hem welle with clay one every syd fro the toppe to the 
rotte, and when a yere is paib there hys wond is, sowde a graffe in the 
same Iboke a syone that never bare frute, and thereon schalle growe 
cherys withoute ony ftonys. Also a grape to growe withowte pepyns, 
whenne the pythe of the vyne is take owte. Also of alle othyre y-like.” 
Early English Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, ed. J. O. Halliwell 
(Warton Club, 1855), p. 71. 

1 Page 206. i.e., Steward. The office is that from which the 
Despensers and Spencers took their name. 

1 Page 208. The Beguines were a sort of religious order or lay 
sisterhood, living in the world under certain vows and somewhat 
analagous to the Franciscan Tertiaries or Third Order. 

1 Page 210. This witness to the antiquity of the term <c bloody ” 
as an expletive (de males sanglantes fibres, de male sanglante sepmaine. 


Notes to the Text 

de male sanglante journee) is interesting and disproves finally the popular 
belief that it is derived from the phrase u By our Lady ” much as the 
inn sign u The Goat and Compasses 99 is said to be derived from u God 
encompasses us”. Mr Coulton has discovered an example two 
centuries earlier, when the viguier of Beziers in the days of Louis XI 
addressed some villagers who refused to pay a royal levy, tc You 
bloody peasants ! whether you will or whether you won’t, you shall 
pay all the same ! (O ruSiici sanguinolenti , ms dabitis velitis vel non). 
See G. G. Coulton, The Medieval Village (1925), p. 342. 

1 Page 217. The Menagier uses the term blanc, which I have 
roughly translated throughout as “ silver penny ”. It was worth iod. 

1 Page 218. The sun parlour upstairs. 

1 Page 220. Here follows a short treatise on the points of a horse 
and its care in health and sickness, which I have omitted. It contains 
some odd remedies, including two charms of the nature of the charm 
to cure the bite of a mad dog, given on p. 305. It also contains the 
eighteen points of a good horse, which were often printed in the 
sixteenth century. u Three of the points of a fox, to wit, short 
upright ears ; good coat and Strong and Stiff ; bushy tail. Four of a 
hare, to wit narrow head, wide awake, light in movement, fleet and 
swift in going. Four of an ox, to wit haunches large, wide and open, 
large cod, large eyes jutting forth from the head, and low jointed. 
Of an ass three: good feet, strong backbone, debonnair manners. 
Four of a maid, to wit, fine mane, fine cheSt, fine thighs and large 
buttocks.” Which shows that Standards of feminine, if not of equine, 
beauty change. 

1 Page 221. These Statistics of the consumption of meat in Paris 
(amounting annually when he wrote to 30,316 beefs, 188,552 muttons, 
30, 794 pigs and 19,604 veals, counting the consumption of the royal 
household and the households of the dukes of Orleans and Berry) 
would be interesting if we could rely upon their accuracy ; but Pichon 
gives reason to doubt this (Introduction to Le Mlnagier de Paris , I, 
pp. xliii-xliv). 

1 Page 222. i.e., as 20 is to 25, or one-fifth less than the King. 

1 Page 224. “ A Pike , firSt a Hurling pick, then a Pickerel, then a 
Pike 9 then a Luce, or Lucie 99 ; thus Randolph Holme, quoted by 
Fumival in his edition of Early English Meals and Manners (E.E.T.S., 
edit. 1894), p. 99. The Menagier’s French terms are u des brochets, 
Pen dit lancerel, brochet, quarrel, lux et luceau ”. 

1 Page 226. Tranche. This may be a misreading for fraiche, or 
it may denote a special kind of eel. 

2 Page 226. A sweet Greek wine. “ De Pisle de Candie il leur 
venoit tr&s bonnes malvoises et grenaches ” (Froissart). 


Notes to the Text 

3 Page zi 6 , A pimpernel was a little fish. 

2 Page 22 6. Cyvey or civey is the form which contemporary English 
cookery books give to the French sive or cive. For the recipe see p. 265 . 

5 Page 226. See p. 267. 

6 Page 226. See p. 270. 

7 Page 226. So called because it was divided into four parts by 
two lines crossing, as in heraldry. The Menagier describes a pot age 
parti in a recipe not given here, and concludes, u serve it in bowls 
and ca£t thereon cinnamon powder and sugar, to wit caft it on one half 
of the bowl and not on the other ; and it is called Party Pottage 
In Quartered Pottage the spice would no doubt be spread so that two 
plain alternated with two spiced losenges. Further on a “ party 
blankmanger ” is mentioned. 

8 Page 226. Dodine was a sort of sauce made of almond, garlic and 
eggs, sometimes with the white meat of capons too. 

9 Page 226. Ris engoulie. See p. 277. 

10 Page 226. I use the Anglicised version of the name bourree ; 
the dish was composed of meat cut up into little gobbets, boiled and 

11 Page 226. See p. 271. 

12 Page 226. See p. 283. 

13 Page 226. Again I use the contemporary English version of the 
French word fiaonnes ; they were open tarts, mod. French Jiaon ; 
modem English cooks £H 11 call them “ flans For a recipe see p. 278. 

14 Page 226. A spiced wine which took its name from the par- 
ticular sort of bag, termed Hippocrates’s sleeve, through which it was 
drained. (Fumival, op . cit., p. 88.) For a recipe see p. 299. There 
is a rhymed recipe for it in John Russell’s Boke of Nurture (Furnival, 
op . cit., pp. 9-12). 

1 Page 227. See p. 248. 

2 Page 227. See p. 308. 

3 Page 227. See p. 286. 

4 Page 227. See p. 282. 

5 Page 227. *Iaillis or tayles (as the English cookery books have it) 
is thus defined by Cotgrave, “ A Hachee ; or made dish of Creuises, 
the flesh of Capons, Chickens, or Veale, bread, wine, salt, verjuyce, and 
spices ; also a kind of gellie ”, See recipe for meatless taillis , p. 276. 

6 Page 227. Doreures , the English also used the word to “ dore ” 
or “ endore ”, meaning to glaze or wash over a piece of meat etc. with 
yolks of eggs or some other liquid, to give it a shiny appearance like 
gilt, when cooked. 

7 Page 227. Cotgrave, “ Soupe; A sop, or peece of bread in broth ; 
also pottage, or broth (wherein there is ftore of sops or sippets) 


Notes to the Text 

Contemporary cookery books have many recipes for different kinds of 
sops, as cc Soppes Chamberlayne ”, “ Soppes Dorre ”, etc. It will 
be remembered that Chaucer’s Franklin liked a u sop in wyn ” in the 

8 Page 227. Soupe; here and in the menu the word seems to be 
used in the modem sense and gravy is the neared equivalent. 

9 Page 227. Cotgrave, “ Crepez ou Crepets : Fritters ; also 
Wafers ” ; modem French Crepe. They were favourites in England 
under the name of crisps. For recipe see p. 284. 

10 Page 227. See p. 277. 

11 Page 227. I have preferred to use the old English word brewet 
for hrouei , rather than the modem broth ; the brewets were served in 
bowls, the solid gobbets of meat from which the broth had been made 
at the bottom, then the broth, and a powdering of spices or sugar 
over the surface. The Brouet PAlemaigne (German brewet) here 
mentioned was a very favourite dish and is found under that name in 
mod of the English cookery books. For the recipe see p. 264. 

12 Page 227. I use the word used in the Forme of Cury , for this 
herb dish, which the Menagier calls an Arboula&re. See Ducange 
Herbola. Sla, a cake fluffed with herbs. For the recipe see p. 274. 

13 Page 227. Cotgrave : “ Creions. The crispie peeces, or mam- 
mo ekes, remaining of lard, that hath been fird: shred, then boded and 
then drained through a cloth For a vegetable cretonnee see p. 260 . 

14 Page 227. I can find no definition of raniolles y but it may be a 
misreading for rauiolles ( raviolles ), found in old English cookery books 
as raf rolys , and in modem Italy as raviuoli . T. Wright gives a recipe 
from an English cookery book in Homes of Other Days (1871), p. 362. 
Pichon, however, notes that in the Grand Cuisinier the word is written 
ramolle . 

15 Page 227. A roske was so called from being made of roses, but 
the Menagier’s roske on p. 259 has no roses in it, nor has the rosee in 
Warner Antiquitates Culinaria (1791)? p* 43 (No. 47) ; but the 
rosee in the same trad (No. 41) befits its name : “ Tak the fiowris of 
rosys and wasch hem wel in water and after bray hem wel in a morter ; 
and than tak almondys and temper hem, and seth hem ; and after tak 
flesch of capons, or of hennys and hac yt smale, and than bray hem wel 
in a morter, and than do yt in the rose, so that the flesch accorde wyth 
the mylk, and so that the mete be charchaunt ; and after do yt to the 
fyre to boyle, and do there to sugur and safron, that yt be wel ycoloured, 
and rosy, of levys and of the forseyde flowrys, and serve it forth 

1 Page 228. This is the dish in which Chaucer’s cook excelled — “ Of 
blankmanger, that made he with the bed ” {Prologue). It was so called 


Notes to the Text 

from its white colour, but had nothing to do with our blancmange of 
to-day, being usually made with capons. For recipe see p. 264. 

2 Page 228. See p. 292. 

3 . Page 228. Leschefrites i.e. fritters ; I use the term used in 
the English cookery books. Cotgrave : “ Lesche , a long slice or shive 
of bread,” or of meat or other edibles. 

4 Page 22$. Cotgrave : “ Darioles , Small pafties filled with flesh, 
hearbes and spices, mingled and mixed together”. The Menagier 
gives no recipe, but they are common in English cookery books. See 
e.g. Warner, op, cit ., pp. 32, 66 ; Two Fifteenth Century Cookery Books , 
ed. T. Au&in (E.E.T.S., 1888), pp. 47, 53, 55, 56. 

5 Page 228. See p. 275. 

6 Page 228. a la soupe courts. Perhaps like the *soupe despourvue 
on p. 257, or the saulce brieve pour chapon on p. 291. 

7 Page 228. PaRSs Norrois. See p. 282. 

8 Page 228. A recipe for the famous cameline sauce (of which we 
read much in English cookery books too) is on p. 286. 

9 Page 228. See p. 266. 

10 Page 228. See p. 263. 

11 Page 228. See p. 253. 

12 Page 228. <c O.F. Horribles ; cp. Late Lat. Nombrilus , for Lat. 
Lumbtilus ” (Austin, op, cit ., p. 1 37). See p. 268 and recipes in English 
cookery books under this name. 

1 Page 229, See p. 289. 

2 Page 229. See p. 279. 

3 Page 229. See p. 252. 

4 Page 229. See p. 262. 

5 Page 229. “ Haftelet , dimin. de hafte , viande rotie ” (Godefroy). 
They were little fillets or pieces of meat roasted on the spit and the 
name was sometimes applied to vegetable rissoles of like shape. 

6 Page 229. See p. 259. 

7 Page 229. See above, p. 324, note to p. 226. 

8 Page 229. See p. 262. 

r Page 230. See p. 265. 

2 Page 230. Cotgrave : <{ Talmouse : a cheese-cake ; a Tart, or 
cake made of egges and cheese ”, 

3 Page 230. Perhaps glazed and silvered over. 

1 Page 231. Losenges or orillettes were little parties doubtless so 
called from their shape. There are two recipes for “ Loscyns ” in 
The Forme of Cury (Warner, op. cit,, pp. 12, 24). An oreillette was an 
earring, or the flap covering the ear in a headdress or helmet ; little 
cakes under that name, fried in olive oil, are ftill eaten in the Mont- 
pellier diftrifl: in carnival time ; see the recipe in a book greatly to be 


Notes to the Text 

recommended to modem gourmets , A. de Croze, Les Plats Regionaux 
de France (Paris [1928]), p. 256 (Oreilleites montpeheraines). 

2 Page 231. Puffs or pummels. See p. 281. 

3 Page 231. Chaflelliers , so called because they were shaped like 
cables. A recipe under the title “ Chaftletes ” is given by Richard IPs 
Mailer Cooks m F he Forme of Cury : “ Take and make a soyle (cruft) 
of gode pasl, with a roller, of a foot brode, and lynger by cumpas (i.e. 
long in proportion ). Make four coffyns (crufts) of the self pail, tippon 
the rolleres, the gretnesse of the smale of thyn arme, of six ynche 
deepnesse. Make the gretu£l in the myddel. Faiten the soile in the 
mouth upwarde, and faiten thee other foure in every side. Kerve 
out keyndich (quaintly, cunningly ) kyrnels (battlements) above in the 
manner of bataiwyng (embattling), and drye them harde in an ovene, 
other (or) in the sune. In the myddle coffyn do a fars [fluffing] of pork, 
with gode pork and ayren (eggs) rawe with salt and color it with safron, 
and do in another creme of almandes ; and helde (caff) it in another 
creme of cowe mylde with ayren ; color it with sandres (sandal wood). 
Another manner. Fars fyges of raysons, of apples, of peeres, and hold 
it bron (make it brown). Another manner. Do fars as to frytors 
blanched and color it with grene . Put this to the ovene and bake hit wel, 
andserve itforth withew ardant (hotwater) (Warner, op. cit.^-p. 33.) 

4 Page 231. See p. 288. 

5 Page 231. See p. 255. 

6 Page 231. See p. 262. 

1 Page 232. i.e. ituffed pigs ; to ituff was called to “ farce ”, 
from the French farcir , whence our “ forcemeat For recipe 
see p. 2 67. 

2 Page 232. See p. 268. 

1 Page 233. Cotgrave : “ Oublie : a wafer cake; such a one 
especially as is sweetened onely with honie ” (the word is £lill in use). 
u E fir it : a kind of bread, or pa£le, of fine flower kneaded with water 
white wine, the yolkes of egges, salt and sugar.” 

2 Page 233. Clarry was a claret or mixed wine, mixed with honey 
and seasoned with spices. For a long and elaborate recipe for making 
it entitled “ An excellent approved medecine both for the ftomach 
and head of an elderly person ”, see Warner, op. cit ., p. 90. A short 
recipe from Arnold’s Chronicle is also quoted there : “ The craft to 
make clarre. For eighteen gallons of good wyne, take half a pounde of 
ginger, a quarter of a pound of long peper, un [one] ounce of safron, 
a quarter of an ounce of coliaundyr, two ounces of calomole dromatycus 
and the third part as much honey that is claryfyed, as of youwre wyne ; 
ftreyne thym through a cloth and do it into a clene vessell 

3 Page 233. See p. 265. 


Notes to the Text 

4 Page 233. See p. 237. A sort of ragout ; the term salmis is still 
in use. 

5 Page 233. See p. 265. 

6 Page 233. I have found no recipe for chapons pelerins. 

7 Page 233. See p. 259. 

8 Page 233. See p. 267. 

9 Page 233. Doubtless some sort of fish, but I have been unable 
to identify them. 

10 Page 233. A bScuit was a fish dish ; possibly it consisted of fish 
on a flat open paltry tart. 

1 Page 234. See p. 261. 

2 Page 234. I cannot discover what method of serving peas this was. 

3 Page 234. See p. 267. 

4 Page 234. Either twice boiled, or with some sort of boiled sauce. 

5 Page 234. Here and in one or two places hereafter the author 
uses the word beschet or bequet , which was a popular name for the 
salmon. He also uses the word saumon elsewhere and I do not know 
whether a special kind of salmon is here intended. 

6 Page 234. See p. 278. 

7 Page 234. Nieulles , “ light paltry, perhaps a sort of oublie [J.P.] 

8 Page 234. See p. 272. 

1 Page 235. Graspois. Further on (in a passage here omitted) the 
Menagier explains : “ Graspois. It is salted whale and should be in 
strips all raw and cooked in water like bacon ; and serve it with your 
peas ”, (Le MSnagier de Paris , II, pp. 200-1) . Pichon has an interesting 
note on the subject. u There is mention of graspois or craspois in 
many medieval works, but to my knowledge only the Menagier explains 
what it is. From a trial which lasted for several years in the parlement 
de Paris and which concerned the seven flails, five for cuttle fish and two 
for craspois owned by the king in the halies of Paris, we know that 
craspois only came to Paris at Lent ; it was the Lenten bacon, the fish 
of the poor ; forty thousand persons lived on craspois, cuttle fish and 
herrings during Lent. These fish were sold by something like a 
thousand poor market women, who were only forbidden to ffand 
beneath the covered part of the halies , where the big flails were.” [z 3 .] 

1 Page 237. £C There was in 1379 an abbot of Lagny who was 
present in the Parlement, either because he was a member or because 
he was one of the King’s Council . . . and it is very likely that 

this account refers to him. I notice him mentioned as present in the 
Parlement for the firfb time on March iff, 1378-9 {Plaid, civiles) ; 
and it may be that the dinner of which our author gives the menu 
was an inaugural dinner which took place at that time. Eaffer fell 
on April 10th, 1379, so t ^ iat ^ was Lent, and the dinner is in fadt 


Notes to the Text 

maigre. If I am right on this conjecture and if the dinner actually 
did take place in 1379, M. de Paris is Aymery de Maignac, bishop of 
Paris. . . . The President (doubtless the firlt president) is Arnault 

de Corbie, afterwards chancellor of France, one of the molt illustrious 
and molt honourable Statesmen of the fourteenth century, who died 
in 1413 at a ripe old age. The Procureur du Roi is Guillaume de Saint 
Germain, firlt avocat solennel at the Chatelet, then Procureur General 
in the Parlement, or Procureur du Roi (it was the same thing), from 
1365 until his death in February, 1383-4. ... Of the two Avocats 

du Roi, one may be Jean Paltourel, who exercised the office in 1364 
and 1373, but die other was certainly the famous Jean Des Mares or 
Des Mar£s, who died so unhappily in 1382.” [J.P.] 

2 Page 237. I translate the word escuelle or bowl by cover here. 
The cultom seems to have been for each guelt to have his own trencher 
for solid food, but to share a bowl or soup plate with his next door 
neighbour for liquid foods, each dipping his spoon into it. Thus a 
meal served for a certain number of Scuelles would signify a meal for 
double that number of persons. Pichon points out that the use of 
separate soup plates for liquids for each guelt was Still new and not very 
general under the minority of Louis XIV. 

3 Page 237. Cups. 

4 Page 237. Flat slices of bread, several or days old, used as plates. 

5 Page 237. I do not know if by this is to be understood the servants 
or perhaps also persons of less elevated rank who dined after the firlt 
gueSts. Q.P.] The phrase also occurs on p. 239. 

6 Page 237. Pommes de rouvel . Capgrave : <e Rouveau, Pomme 
de rou. The Ruddocke, Redding, Summer Goulding ”, 

7 Page 237. Becquets again. 

8 Page 237. See p. 254. 

1 Page 238. A preserve of fruits, or jam. See p. 295. 

1 Page 239. See below, note I to p. 240. 

2 Page 239. I am not sure whether “ soup 99 or ££ sops ” is here 
intended ; Pichon thinks the former. 

1 Page 240. Oubloier , or maker of the wafers called . I have 

not attempted to find English equivalents for the names of the different 
sorts of wafers, supplications , eftriers , gros batons , portes , gaieties and 
the relt. Some of them are more fully explained on pp. 245 and 305-6. 

2 Page 240. Cotgrave : “ Blandureau : the white apple, called 

(in some part of England) a Blaundrell ”. 

2 Page 241. Compare John Russell’s Boke of Nurture ; 

For good gynger colombyne is belt to drynke and ete ; 

Gynger valadyne & maydelyn ar not so holsom in mete. 

Fumivall, op. cit. y p. 10. 


Notes to the Text 

2 Page 241. Sugar cooked in rosewater. 

1 Page 243. In which were placed portions of the food in front 
of the gue£ls, to be subsequently given to the poor. 

2 Page 243. “The hotel of the bishop of Beauvais, either that 

which seems to have been the personal possession of the famous Miles 
de Dormans, bishop of Beauvais (d. 1387) in the rue de la Verrerie, or 
more probably the hotel of the bishops of Beauvais, rue des Billeites y 
which belonged to the bishopric and which Charles, cardinal de 
Bourbon, sold for 30,000 livres in 1572. . . . We read in the 

relation of the embassy of Jerome Lippomano to France in 1577 that 
the concierges of Paris houses let them by the day or month during 
the absence of their masters ( Amb . vSnitiens , 1838, II? 609) ; this was 
already cu&omary in the fourteenth century, for later on it is remarked 
that Jean Duchesne paid the four francs here mentioned to the 
4 concierge of the hotel de Beauvais ’, who also hired him the tables, 
treaties, etc.” Q.P.] 

3 Page 243. “ In 1385 there was a Jehan Duchesne attached to the 
Chatelet, possibly as usher, who to all appearances is the same whose 
wedding is described for us by the Menagier.” Q.P.] 

1 Page 244. AssSeur. I use the old English word for the man 
who arranged the dishes on the table. See “ Office of a sewer ” in 
John Russell’s Poke of Nurture (Furnivall, of, cit ., pp. 46-7). 

2 Page 244. Pichon quotes the following ceremony for the blessing 
of the nuptial bed. “ Benedidto thalami ad nuptias et als [he]. Benedic, 
Domine, thalamum hunc et omnes habitantes in eo, ut in tua voluntate 
permaneant, requiescant et multiplicentur in longitudinem dierum. 
Per Chriftum, etc. Tunc thurificet thalamum in matrimonio poftea 
sponsum et sponsam sedentes vel jacantes in letto suo . Benedicentur 
dicendo : Benedic, Domine, adolescentulos i£tos ; sicut benedixi&i 
Thobiam et Sarram filiam Raguelis, ita benedicere eos digneris, 
Domine, ut in nomine tui vivant et senescant, et multiplicentur in 
longitudinem dierum. Per Christum, etc. Benedi&io Dei omni- 
potentis. Paths et Filii et Spiritus sandti descendat super vos et maneat 
semper vobiscum. In nomine Paths, etc.” Le Mtnagier de Paris , /, 
Introd., p. Ixxrvi. 

1 Page 244. “ We shall further on [p. 300] find this Hautecourt 
called Maihre Jehan de Hautecourt . It seems fairly certain that it 
was the same man who on June 3rd, 1385, made an accord with the 
Abbess of Hy&res in the matter of a case which she had brought against 
him. . . . Sire Jean de Fleury, la£t provoft of the merchants 

in 1382, the famous treasurer Bernard de Montlhery cited by Christine 
de Pisan, and Jehan de Longueil councillor in Parlement, were friends 
of his ; there is thus reason to believe that he was in a sufficiently 

33 ° 

Notes to the Text 

elevated position to be able to give as expensive a bridal fealb as that 
of which we have the menu here.” [JJP.j 

1 Page 245. This was another of the dishes at which Chaucer’s 
cook excelled. See p. 276. 

1 Page 246. “ Ducange cites, at the word Manus , an account of 

* 334 > i* 1 which there appear two marchpanes, the one of manuchriBi > 
the other of confiegs . These words would seem to refer to a fruit or 
almond, but which I know not.” Q.P.] 

1 P age 248. The V landier which follows is very long and has been 
abbreviated here by the omission of a number of recipes, including 
some general directions as to preparing meat, etc,, at the beginning. 

1 P 25 x * I use this old English word for the pot-water in which 
meats or vegetables have been cooking. 

1 Page 252. See above, p. 328, for this Lenten dish. 

1 Page 253. See above, p. 321. 

2 Page 253. i.e., boil slowly. 

1 Page 257. Here again what seems to be intended is a series of 
soups in which to serve sops, for they are served up in bowls. 

2 Page 257. Probably charcoal is meant by charbon all through; 
but mineral coal was in use at this period too. 

$ Page 257.^ Argus, full of eyes (i.e., holes) ; Helen, white; 
Magdalen, moift ; Lazarus (leper), seems to represent scaly. Pichon 
explains Martinus as landing for hard, obftinate or residing, in allusion 
to Martin Grosia, professor of law at Bologna in the twelfth century, 
whose hardness and obstinacy became proverbial, according to 
Baronius, quoted by Ducange under the word Martinus . He thinks 
that resfondens fontifici ought then to be translated by heavy, possibly 
in allusion to the pontifical gravity. The men of the middle ages were 
fond of these lifts of the qualities of things — compare the qualities of a 
horse given on p. 323, and Alexander Neckam’s lift of the virtues of 
good wine “ quid quidem lacrimarum penitenciam agentis claritati 
conformetur. Cujus color bubali cornu virorem represen tat. Sumptum 
descendat impetuose ad modum fulminis, sapidum ut nux Philidis, 
repens ad modum esperioli, gefticulans ad modum caprioli, forte sicut 
edificii grisorum monachorum, emicans ad modum scintille ; subtilitati 
Parvipontane veritatis equiparetur ; delicatum ut bissus ; fiigitatem 
criftalli excedat The editor also quotes a much longer description 
in old French. A Volume of Vocabularies , ed. T, Wright (1857), 
pp. 102-3. 

1 Page 261. The remarks in brackets and italics are the Menagier’s 
own comments on the recipes which he is copying. 

z Page 265. Plania Genifla, whence our Plantagenet. 

1 Page 270. See p. 292. 


Notes to the Text 

1 Page 272. The Menagier divides this into two seCtions, round 
and flat fish, and has a large number of recipes and directions for 
cooking different sorts of fish, all interesting. 

1 Page 2 77. “ The Matson Ruftique (1570 ed., p. 105) says that 
when the liquid in the woad has been pressed out in the press, the 
grounds are made up into little pastilles, which are dried in the sun, 
and that these pastilles are thrown into the vats where the wool is 
put to be dyed. It is these pastilles or pafieaux, the size of which was 
doubtless fixed by cuftom and well known, that our author uses here 
as a basis of comparison.” [J.P.] 

1 Page 282. “ At the end of the Galendrier des Bergiers (Paris, 
1493, f. N vj) there is a very curious poem on the snail, in the course of 
which it is remarked 

Oncques Lombard ne te mangeat 
A telle saulce que (nous) ferons, 

Si te mettrons en ung grant plat, 

Au poyvre noir et aux ongnons.” 

[J.P.] “ Never Lombard ate thee with such a sauce as we will do ; 
we will put thee on a big dish with black pepper and onions.” For 
black pepper sauce see p. 289. 

1 Page 283. Cotgrave : “ Pignolat : The preserved kernell of a 
Pine-apple ; or conserve of Pine-kernells 

1 Page 295. In a more pious and cloddess age these directions for 
judging the time would doubtless be adequate. 

1 Page 297. Name of a place. In the Bit des fays (printed in the 
sixteenth century) we read “ En Orte eCfc le bon saffran ”. [J.P.] 

1 Page 300. Agrottemma githago (according to Littre). It is 
rather difficult to identify the flower. The modem meaning of 
fasserose is hollyhock and of nielle fennel-flower or sweet saviour. 

1 Page 303. “ The aviary of the ca&le of Hesdin in the town of 
Artois, where the dukes of Burgundy of the laCt line often used to reside. 
The town of Hesdin, razed to the ground by Charles V in 1553 ? is 
now a bourg called Vieil-Hesdin, about a league from the present 
Hesdin, which is the old village of Mesnil, enlarged and fortified in 
1554 by the duke of Savoy.” [J.P.] 

2 Page 303. The hotel Saint-Paul, rue Saint-Antoine, in Paris. 


3 Page 303. The famous provoft of Paris. [J.P.] 

4 Page 303. Doubdess a citizen of Paris, but nothing is known of 
him. [J.P.] 

1 Page 307. i.e., Linen was then marked by means of a stamp or 
seal. [J.P.] 



Abbots and Husbands, Story of, 

I 53’5? 319 
Acadia , , 88, 316 
Acrobats, 39, 247 
Advocate, see Avocat 
Agnes la Beguine, 13, 208, 210-4, 

Albertino of Brescia, 6, 320 ; see 
Melibeus and Prudence 
Alexander, see Cedar wood, red 
Almayne, Almaign, see Azure, 

Almonds, milk of, recipe, 294 
Alms, 64, 70, 83, 89-90 
Almsdishes, 243, 330 
Aloofness, 68 
Amidon, 284 

Andrewe, Lawrence, 14, 312 
Animals, habits of, 107-9, 

173 ; Farm, 13, 211-2, 219 ; 
mad, cure for bite of, 30 5 
Anjou, Duke of, 31 1 
Ants, to destroy, 199 
Apple, 20, 23, 24; roaft, 237, 283, 
329 ; blaundrel, 37, 240, 246, 
329 ; ruddy (rowel), 237, 329 ; 
to make red, 27 
Arboulaftre, see Herbolace 
Arbour, 25 ; vine, 300 
Armorial bearings on jelly, 280-1 
Arnolfini, Jean, 40 
Aubriot, Hugues, 31 1, 332; 
aviary of, 303 

Author, life of, 1-4, 204, 31 1-3 ; 
chara&er of, 39-40 ; father of, 
189 ; household of, 12-3, 310 ; 
wife of, 93, 137-8, 193, 315 

Auvergne, cherries layered in, 
204, 312 

Avarice, branches of, 81-3 ; 
confession of, 83 ; in executors, 
80 ; in innkeepers, lawyers and 
lords, 8r ; in merchants, 81-2 
Aviary, birds in, 303-4 ; Hesdin, 
3° 3, 332 ; king’s at Saint Pol, 
303 ; Messire Hugues Aubriot’s, 
303 ,* Chariot’s, 303 
Avignon lettuce, 198 
Avocat, £fory of wife of, 7, 12, 
186-7 ; <*u R°b h 2 36-7 3 329 
Azure of Almayne, 27 

Bacon, in black porray, 255 ; 
pottage of peas and, 251 ; see 
also Pig 
Baker, 239, 245 

Bar-sur-Aube, 312 ; wager at, 
12, 157-8 

Barley, 293 ; peeled, 275 ; to 
hull, 310 

Basil, 21, 197, 288 
Beans, culture of, 195 ; cretonee 
of, 260-1 ; frizzled (Jraskes ), 
229, 231, 252-3 

Beauce, 312 ; method of cooking 
turnips in, 257 

Beauvais, 330 ; earthenware, 302 
hotel de, 243, 247 
Bed, bridal, blessing of, 244, 330 
Beef, consumption of in Paris and 
royal households, 221-2, 323 ; 
parts of, 222 ; in caudle, 223 ; 
sauce for, 287 ; marrow, 269, 
282, 286 ; see also Pafty 



Beer, leaven of, 293 
Beets, 21, 24, 196, 198, 200, 274, 
313, 321 ; porray of, 253, 254 
Beguine, 322 ; see Agnes la 

Berry, Duke of, xv, xvi, 1, 37, 
108-9, 20 4> 222 > ^4, 3 IX > 3 12 ? 

Bertram the Old, 209 
Beziers, 312 ; peas at, 251 ; 

measure of, 299 
Beverages for the sick, 293-4 
Biblesworth, Walter de, 18, 313 
Birds, habits of, 107, 109, 151 ; 
of farm, 212 ; tame, care of, 
15, 21 1 ; breeding in aviary, 

3 ° 3~4 

Biscuit ( bicuii ), 235, 328 ; of 
pike and eels, 233, 236 
Black pudding, 33, 226-7, 248-50 
Blanches 50, 174, 315, 320 
Blankmanger, 34, 38, 228, 230, 
231, 232, 236, 240, 244, 245, 
246, 325-6 ; recipe for, 264 ; 
decorated, 228 ; party, 229, 
230, 2 3 1 y 2 32, 233, 234, 235 ; 
standing, 234; capons with, 

238 ; broth for, 239 ; veal for, 


Boar, poison to slay, 305 
Boar’s Tail, recipe, 292 
Boars’ umbles, see Umbles 
Boccaccio, 6 
Bochet, recipe, 293-4 
Bollard, Nicholas, 19 
Book, Le Mhiagier de Paris, date 
of, 1, 6, 31 r, 316 ; prologue of, 
3; plan of, 4; exexnpla in, 5-7 ; 
manuscripts of, 8 
Book of Nurture, see Russell, John 
Bourbon, Duke of, 37, 222 
Bourrey, 226, 227, 229, 231, 232, 

Boute-hors , see Sally Forth 
Bread, 237 ; brayed, 256 ; 
trenchers, 329 ; drained in 
sauce, 289 ; leaven of, 293 ; 
thickening, 260, 261, 268, 276 ; 
crumbs in pottages, 258 
Brescia, Albertino of, see Alber- 
tino of Brescia 

Brewet, 34, 36, 239, 244, 260, 
261, 267, 280, 282, 325 ; 
almond, 230, 236, ; beef, 262, 
275 ,* broach and eels, 236 ; 
cinnamon, 229, 231, 262; 

capon, 258-9 ; white coney, 
228 ; eel, 227, 229, 230, 231, 
236 ; English, 35, 265 ; fish, 
262 ; garnished, 232, 262, 263, 
German (of Almaign), 34, 227, 
231, 232, 264-5, 325 ; larded, 
221, 227, 233, 245 ; meat, 228, 
231, 250, 257, 275 ; pike and 
eels, 230 ; red, 263 ; Savoy, 
233, 265 ; with verjuice, 230, 
233 ,* white, 234, 236, 263-4 ; 
yellow, 233, 288 
Broth, see Brewet 
Bridals, see Wedding 
Bride, 36, 240, 314 
Bridegroom, 244 
Broom (flower), 265, 331 
Bruges, 40 

Bruyant, Jean, poem of, omitted, 
xiv, 7, 312, 31 5, 321 
Burgundy, Duke of, 37, 222 
Butcher, 215, 221, 239, 243 
Butter, to take salt out of, 309 
Buying, for feafts, 38, 239-43 

Cabbage, 21, 23, 195, 199, 200, 
201, 322 ; culture of, 196 ; 
kinds of, 255-6, 322 ; recipe 
for cooking, 255-6 



Calimafree, see Sauce, Lazy 
Cameline, 241, 242, 246, 257, 
286-7 ; see Brewet, Sauce 
Caudle, 39, 219, 241 
Capon, 224 ; a la dodine, 229, 
231, 232; mud for, 291; 
sauce for, 288, 291-2 ; pere- 
grine, 233, 328 ; auxherbes,234 
Carcassone, measure of, 299 
Carnality, 76-7 

Carp, 224, 225, 226; Marne, 
23 7 ; galentine for, 289 ; 
sewe of, 289 ; boiled, recipe, 
270-1 ; Gleamed, recipe, 270-1 ; 
to carry alive, 225 
Carrots, 21; preserve of, 296 
Caterpillars, to destroy, 201 
Caudle, 223, 279 ; Flemish, 294 
Cedarwood, red, 259-60, 297 
Cerxes, 99, 316 

Chambermaid, 208, 211, 219-20 
Chandler, wax, 246 
Chaplets, 22, 42, 242, 243, 246 
Chapletmaker, 244, 247 
Character, of domestic servants, 

Charity, 89-90 
Charlemagne, 18 
Charles V, 32, 31 1, 318, 322 
Charles VI, 32, 31 1 
Chariot, 303, 332 
Charm, to cure bite of mad 
beaft, 15, 305 ; to cure horse, 
IS, 323 
Charpies, 309 
Chailelonges, 233, 238 
Chaftelets, 231, 236, 327 
Charity, 44, 65, 91-4, 194 
Chaucer, 1, 5, 6, 12, 22, 105, 
312, 314, 316, 317, 318, 320, 
32S, 326, 331 
Chawdon, see Sauces 
Cheese, 213,257-8, 331 

Cheniin de Povrete et de Riches se, 
Le, see Bruy ant, Jean 
Cherry, 20, 23 ; without &ones, 
322 ; grafted upon a vine, 27, 
202 ; vine grafted upon, 202-3 ; 
layered in Auvergne, 204, 312 
Chicken, comminee, 261 ; farced, 
coloured and glazed, 309-11 ; 
sauce for, 288 ; with herbs, 
233 ; see Glazed Dishes, 
Pafty, Stuffing 
Church, 44, 52, 85, in 
City of God , Auguftine’s, 10 1 
Civey, 46, 226, 324 ; hare in, 
226, 227, 228, 230, 231, 244, 
265-6 ; veal in, 229, 244 ; 
season of, 295 

Clarry, 233, 234, 279, 286, 327 
Clothes, 10, 14, 50, 315 ; care of, 
14, 214-5 9 dried roses in, 

Coal, 241, 257, 331 
Cod, fresh, recipe, 273 ; stock- 
fish, recipe, 272-3 
Columella, 19 
Comminee, 234, 262 
Compoft, 329, see Preserves 
Coney, 4, 44, 52, 54, 60-5, 71-2 
Confession, 4, 44, 52, 54, 60-5, 
68-72, 74-5, 78-80, 83, 86 
Confessor, 60-1, 63-4, 72 
Continence, 44, 94, 194 
Contrition, 58-60, 65 
Cook, 38, 242, 243, 247, 310, 314, 
3 26, 331 

Cookery, 31-37, 223-310 ; 

invalid, 33, 46, 293-5 ; litera- 
ture of, 8, 17, 24, 31-3, 314, 
325, 326, 327 

Cotignac, see Marmalade, quince 
Covers, at table, 237, 238, 245, 
329 ; at wedding, 240 ; for 
servants, 240, price of, 240 



Cracknels, 237, 276 
Craftsmen, 13, 205, 207-8 ; see 

Craspois, see Whale-flesh 
Crayfish, 272 
Cress, 253-4, 314 
Cretonnee, 230, 236, 261 ; for a 
fish day, 261 ; meat, 227, 325 ; 
of new peas or beans, 260-1 ; 
Spanish, 229, 232 
Crisps (crespes), 227, 228, 229, 
231, 232, 233, 235, 236, 284-5, 
325 ; see Fritters, Pancakes 
Crows, how to slay, 309 
Cury, The Forme of, 32, 314, 325 

d’Andresel, Jean, 1, 7, 12, 44, 
155-7, 3i9 

Dancing, 39, 42, 72, 239 
Daniel, 96-9 

Darioles, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 
2 33, 235, 236, 239, 245, 326 
De Cessoles, Jacques, 6, 312, 316 
De Garlande, John, 18, 22, 313 
De Hautecourt, Jehan, 38, 244, 
247 , 330-1 

De Louens, Renault, 6 

De Meung, Jean, 6 

De la Rividrt, Bureau, 1, 198, 322 

De Naturis Return, 18 

De Villis , 18 

Deceit, 82 

Deportment, 10-11, 50-3, 92, 
312, 315-6 
Despair, 76-8 

Dessert, 36, 236, 236, 238, 244 
Detraction, 73 
Digne, raisins, of, 298 
Diligence, 65, 88-9 
Dining Hall, 237, 242, 243 
Dinner, to order, 22 ; serving of, 
237 ; of M. de Lagny, 236-44 ,* 

of Hautecourt wedding, 244-7 ; 
of M. Helye, 238-44 ; of great 
lords, 226, 247 ; fish, for Lent, 
menus, 234-6 ; meat, menus, 

Discord, 68, 71-2, 88 

Disobedience, 66, 69 

Dives, 86 

Dogs, domestic, care of, 21 1 ; 
habits of, 208 ; Ctories of, 
108-9, 312, 317 

Doreures, 324 ; recipes, 276-82 ; 
see Glazed dishes 

Drink, servants and, 218 ; too 
much, 85 

Duchesne, Jean, 1, 38, 243, 247, 

Ducks a la dodine, 232 

Duckling, sauce for, 287 ; see 

Duke’s Powder, 299 

Earthenware, Beauvais, 302 
Eel, fresh, 226 ; broth, 227 ; in 
galentine, 235 ; reversed, 226, 
227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 

233 , 2 34 > 2 35 > 2 36 5 _ 271 ; 
^teamed, 272 ; see Soringue, 

Eggs, way of preparing, 274-5 ; 
poached, sauce for, 292-3 ; 
soup, 257 ; thickening, 261, 
276 ; yolk of, thickening, 260-1 ; 
turning milk, 283 
English, 108, 317, 319; see 

Entremets, 33, 35, 36, 231,232, 
234, 236, 237, 239, 275-86 
Envy, 65, 72-5, 87, 88 
Equity, 87-8 

Espimbeche of meat, 233 ; of 
roaches, 267 



Esquires, at dinner, 237 
E&riers, 233, 238, 240, 327, 329 ; 

see Wafers 
Executors, 5, 20 
Exempla , 5, 6, 7, 11-12, 315 

Faggots, Burgundy, 241 
Falconry, 46 ; see Hawking 
Farm, of author, 13, 21 1-2; 
produ&s, care of, 313*’; 
animals, 219 
Facing, 64, 84, 92 
Faulx Grenon, recipe, 275-6 
Feafts, 8, 31, 236-47 ; catering 
for, 37, 245-7 ; wedding, 36, 
38, 238-47, 314, 331 ; in Duke 
of Berry’s household, 222 
Feaie of Gardeninge , The, 19 
Figs, 293 ; roa£i, 237 ; Proven- 
cal, 234. 

Fires, kindling for, 219 
Fish, 307 ; a la dodine, 226, 324 ; 
roa£t, 236 ; broth, 262 ; green 
garlic sauce for, 287 ; river, 
226 ; fresh and salt water, 227; 
fresh water, 270-2, 288 ; salt 
water, 288 ; sea, round and 
flat, recipes, 272-3, 332 ; 

soup, 257 ; dinners, menus for 
234-6. And see under names 
of fish 

Fishdays, menus for, 36, 234-6 ; 
cabbages for, 256 ; comminee 
for, 262 ; cretonnee for, 261 ; 
frumenty for, 275 ; jelly for, 
280, savoury rice for, 277 ; 
Norwegian panics for, 282 ; 
pottage of peas for, 251-2 ; 
green porray for, 254 ; white 
porray for, 253 ; rissoles for, 

Flambeaux, 241, 246, 247 

Flanders, 312 

Flawns, 226, 238 ; in Lent, 278 : 
cream, 233, 234 ; sugared, 226, 

Fleas, to deslrov, 15, 173-4 
Flies, to destroy, 15, 174-6 ; to 
protect horse from, 209. 
Flowers, 21, 22 ; see Gardening, 
Broom, Herbs, Lily, Bose, 
Violet, etc. 

Food, purchase of, 8 ,* prices of, 
239-41, 244, 247 
Forcemeat, 327 
Forme of Gury , The , 32 
Foxes, to destroy, 212-3 
France, method of cooking carp 
in, 270-71 ; cherry trees, not 
layered in, 204, 312 ; frogs in, 
35, 332 ; lettuce in, 198 ; see 
Jews, King, Queen 
Fried, dishes, recipes, 275-82 
Fritters, 228, 235, 236, 325 ; see 

Fruits, 21, 23-4, 291-300, 307 ; 
experiments in colour and 
flavour of, 27-8 ; Preserved, 
see Marmalade, Nuts, Pears, 

Frumenty, 228, 229, 230, 231, 
332, 239, 241, 245, 310, 326 ; 
recipe, 275 ; porpoise, 236 ; 
powdered porpoise, 235 ; 
venison, 229, 234 
Furs, care of, 14, 214-5 

Galen tine, 270-1 ; for carp, 289 ; 
for raj, 273 

Galettes, 276, 329 ; see Wafers 
Galingale, 38, 287 
Gambling, 82 
Game, 224 ; see Poultry 
Games, 8-9, 46, 72, 102, 317 




Garden, 18, 19, 20, 22-5, 312 
Gardener, Jon (John), 19, 26, 
28-30, 312 

Gardening, 195-204,313 ; litera- 
ture of, 17-31, 313 5 aerology 
in, 27 

Garlic, 21, 23, 24, 25, 287, 290, 
29 *> 

Gascony, 312 
Gauffres, see Wafers 
Generosity, 65 

Geneve, recipe, 265-6; of larks, 

Gentleness, 65, 87-8 
Germany, method of cooking 
carp in, 270-1 ; r^Almayne 
Gilliflower, 197, 288 
Ginger, colombine, 241, 287, 
329 ; String, 287, 299 
Glazed dishes, 235 ; recipes, 275, 
chickens, 277, 309-10 ; swan, 
269 ; see Doreures 
Glue, to make, recipe, 301 
Glutton, 5, 84 

Gluttony, 3 1, 65, 83-5, 88, 90 
Godfrey upon Palladie de Agri- 
cultural 19 

Golden Legend , 93, 3x1, 316 
Goose, 224, 330 
Grace at Meals, 238 
Grafting, 19, 23, 27, 195, 196, 
202-3 5 see Cherry 
Grand Guisinier , 32 
Grapes, 291 ; without pips, 27, 
202, 322 

Graspois ; see Whale flesh 
Gravy, 227, 325 ; recipe, 259 ; 
ha Sty 9 228; lamphrey, 231; 
shad, 229, 232 
Greenery, 39, 241, 242, 247 
Greens, see Beets, Porray 
Grenache, see Wine 
Gr£ve, Place de, 241, 247 

Griselda, 6, 12, 44, 149, 317-8 ; 

Story of, 113-36, 312, 317 
Gros Baftons, 240, 245, 246, 306, 
329 ; see Wafers 
Grudging, 76-7 

Halebrans, 270, 291, 292, 331 
Hare, 226 ; to tell age of, 225 ; 

roa£t, 309 ; see Civey 
Ha£telettes of beef, 229, 326 
Hatred, 73-4 

Hawking, 8, 17, 315 ; ^Fal- 

Headache, to cure, 292 
Hedgehogs, recipe, 310 ; mock, 


Hellebore, 212 

Helve, Master, Steward, 38, 238 
Hens, hatching peacocks, 304 ; 
sauce for, 292 ; Shrovetide, 

Herbalist, 297 

Herbolace (Arboula&re), 22, 227, 
231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 23 7, 
274-5, 325 

Herbs, 21-3 ; culture of, 196 ; 
sowing of, 28-30 ; li£ts of, 19, 
26, 313-4; for the cup, 25; 
for pottage, 24 ; for salad, 25 ; 
for sauce, capons with, 234 ; 
pullet with, 233 ; for scenting 
water, 15 ; strewn on floors, 
39 ; in clothes against moths, 
14 ; to diftil, 25 ; where to 
buy, 37 ; medicinal, 22 ; pot, 
25 ; raw, with sprouts, 255 
Herring, 230, 235, 238 ; fresh, 
234; red, 231 ; white, 237 
Hesdin, 303, 332 
Hippocras, 1 5, 37, 226, 227, 229, 
235, 238, 239, 241, 245, 246, 
286, 298 ; recipe, 299-300 


Hiring, of household utensils, 
etc., 243, 246-7 ; of servants, 
2 °s 

Honey, 295-6, 298 
Horses, treatise on, omitted, xvi, 
8, 1 7, 220, 323 ; care of, 176 ; 
charm for cure of, 15, 323 ; 
points of, 323 ; to keep flies 
from, 309 

Hotel de Beauvais, 248 
Hounds, care of, 176 
Hourglass, sand for, 304 
House, equipment of, 17, 242-4, 
247 ; interior of, 21 1 ; rooms 
of, 213-4 

Household, of Duke of Berry, 37, 
222, 312 ; of Duke of Bourbon, 
37, 222 ; 'jJ of Duke of Bur- 
gundy, 222 ; of Duke of 
Orleans, 37, 222 ; of king, 37, 
221, 222 ; of lords, 221, 222, 
284, 312 ; of Queen, 37, 221, 

Household Hints, see Menus and 
Household Hints 
Housewifry, 7, 12-7, 45-6, 171-6, 
193, 194, 205-20 
Humility, 65, 86-7 ; see Obed- 

Husbands, 2-4, 5, 8,9-10, 11-12, 

4 i~S> 9 2 ~ 3 ? I0 7 ~ 9 L *94 
Hypocrisy, 66, 70-1 

Indignation, 74 

Ink, 15 ; invisible, 301 ; mark- 
ing, 307 , 332 

“ Issue ”, 37, 227, 229, 233, 23 5, 
236, 238, 239 

Jackdaws, 309 

Jance, 291 ; of cow’s milk, 290 ; 
of garlic, 290 

Jehan the Dispenser, 13, 38, 
205-6, 209, 212, 213, 216-22 
Jelly, 228, 230, 231, 233, 234, 
235, 236, 239, 240, 242, 245, 
286 ; Capon, 229 ; Fish, 228, 
229, 231, 232 ; liquid for, 239 ; 
Meat, 232, 279^80 ; spices in, 
248, 258 

Jews, 99, 3 1 1, 316 
Joseph, 92 
Josephus, 312 
Judas, 77 

King, aviary of, at St Pol, 303 ; 
fishflalls of, at Paris, 328 ; 
household of, 37, 22 r, 222 ; 
see Charles V, Charles VI 
Kitchin, servants, 242, 243 ; 

spices, 246 ; utensils, 17, 237, 
241, 243 ; see House equip- 

Knight of la Tourlandry, 7, II, 
312, 315-6, 321 

La Maniere de Langage , 23 
Labourers, 205-7 
Lagny, The abbot of, 38, 236, 
238, 328-9 

Lamphrey, 229, 237, 271, 272 
Laundress, 244 
Lawyers, avaricious, 81 
Layers, 196, 204, 322 
Larks, rosee of, 228 
Lead Alembic, 302 
Lechery, 65, 86, 88, 91 
Leek, 21, 23, 24, 196, 201, 253 
Leche, 228, 229, 232, 326 
Lent, cress in, 253 ; fish dinners 
for, 278 ; white porray in, 253 ; 
pottage of old peas for, 252 ; 
rissoles for, 283 ; spinach porray 
for, 254 ; sprouts in ? 255 ; 



taillis in, 276 ; whale flesh in, 
328 ; see Fish Day 
Lettuce, 21, 24, 26, 198, 274, 
3 22 

TAbe Cure Coco rum, 32, 314 
Lincoln, Earl of, account of 
bailiff of, 18-9 

Linen, 39, 242, 246-7, 280, 283 ; 

marking ink for, 30 7 
Liquorice, 293 

Lives of the Fathers , 93, 512, 316 
Livre fort excellent de Cuisine , Le, 

Loach au jaunel, 234, 235 
Losenges, 231, 236, 326-7 
Lot’s wife, £fcory of, 149-50 
Loving kindness, 65, 87 
Lucca, 40 

Luce, 44, 141, 224, 231, 236, 323 
Lucifer, 141, 178 
Lucrece (Lucretia), 6, 9, 12, 44, 
316 ; s 4 ory of, 10 1 -5 

Macaire, ftor y of dog, 108 
Machination, 72 
Mackeral, fresh, 273 ; parties 
273 ; season for, 273 ; soup, 

2 57 

Macrobius, 180, 312, 316 
Magpies, to slay, 309 ; recipe, 309 
Maillotins, 7, 311, 318 ; £tory of, 

Mallards, 224-5, 227 
Manure, 197, 202 
Manus-Chri£H, 246, 331 
Marchpane, 331 

Marjoram, 20, 21, 24, 25, 274, 
288, 299; culture of, 196 
Market woman, 328 
Markets, of Paris, 37, 239, 240 ; 
at Porte-de-Paris, 246 ; fish, 
see Stalls ; meat, 221 ; milk, 

Marmalade, quince, recipe, 29S 
Mass, 41, 52, 54-8, 79, 194 
Measures, of Beziers, Carcasscne, 
Montpellier, Paris, 299 
Meat, 32, 222 ; to order, 222 ; 
sold in Paris, 221 ; menus for 
dinners and suppers, 226-34, 
glazed, 227, 229, 230, 231, 232, 
233, 324 ; roa£f, recipes, 267-9; 
to salt, 250 ; pottages, 260-7 ; see 
Jelly, Tile, Beef, Mutton, etc. 
Meat Day, 226 ; menus for, 36 ; 
comminee for, 262 ; Nor- 
wegian parties on, 282 ; pot- 
tages of peas and beans on, 
251-2 ; white porray on, 253 ; 
rissoles on, 284 ; savoury rice 
on, 277 

Mehbeus and Prudence , tale of, 6, 
45, 210, 312, 320; see Albertino 
of Brescia 

Melun, 7, 155-7, 319 
Menagier, see Author 
Menus, 8, 36, 38, 226-47 
Merchants, avaricious, 81, 82 
Mercy, 89-90 
Metier, 37 

Milk, sold mixed with water, 260; 
a la dodine, 230 ; larded, 226, 
227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 283 ; 
markets, 37, 241 ; to turn, 
283 ; to prevent turning, 248 ; 
see Almonds 
Minftrels, 39, 246, 247 
Money, 217, 323 ; see Paris, 
Prices, Tournay 
Montpellier, measure of, 299 
Mortreul, mor trews, 38, 245, 
276, 331 

Mosquitos, to destroy, 15, 174 ; 

in clothes and furs, 14 
Moth, to destroy, 214 ; in clothes 
and furs, 14 



Murmuring, 73 
Mushrooms, 269 ; see Pally 
Mustard, 23, 246, 273, 286, 298 
Mutton, consumption of in 
Paris and royal households, 
221-2, 323 ; coloured yellow, 
358; shoulder of, 310 ; tripes, 
310 ; see Pally 

Neckam, Alexander, 18 
Negligence, 76 

Nells, in aviaries, 303, 304; to 
shoot crows in, 309 
Niort, 1, 7, 10S-9, 311, 312, 3x7 
Noble Boke of Cookery , A , 32 
Norwich, garden of monks at, 19 
Nuts, 216, 295-6, 299 
Nutmegs, 287 

OakHump, grafting upon, 303 
Obedience of wife to husband, 
1 1-2, 110-70 

Oil, 216 ; to remove from clothes, 

Omelette ; see Herbolace 
Onions, 21, 22, 23, 249, 251-2, 
264, 266, 289, 292, 313 
Orange, 238, 240 ; juice, 288 ; 

candied peel, 241, 307-8 
Orilettes, 30, 236 
Orleans, Duke of, 31 1 ; house- 
hold of, 37, 222 

Ox, 284, 312 ; consumption of in 
Paris and , royal households, 
221-2, 323 

Palladius, 19, 27 
Palette, 175, 320 
Pancake, 285 ; see Crisps 
Paper, 30 x 

Papirius, Hory of, 44, 180-1 

Paris, 1, 20, 22 ; butchers of, 
221 ; consumption of meat in, 
221,523; field of Notre Dame 
at, 108 ; fishllalls of, 328 ; 
markets of, 37, 39, 221 ; method 
of cooking geese in, 224 ; 
method of cooking peas in, 
251; money, 222, 323 ; Porte 
de, 37, 241, 246 ; see Avocat, 

Parsley, 19, 2i, 23, 24, 25, 28, 195, 
19 7, 198, 200, 227, 262, 264, 
265, 274, 277, 278, 281, 287, 
288, 314; boiling of, 254; 
soup, 257 ; garnishing with, 
263 ; John Gardener on, 30 ; 
root, preserved, 297 
Partridge, 225, 241 
Passerose, 300, 332 
Pally, 234, 235, 242, 244, 245, 
306 ; beef, 227, 230, 231, 232, 
269-70 ; beef and marrow, 
228 ; bream and eel, 228-30 ; 
bream and gurnard, 230 ; 
bream and plaice, 236 ; bream 
and p almon, 228, 231,235, 236 ; 
capon, 227, 228, 230, 231, 232, 
233, 234 ; chicken, 269; cows’ 
flesh, 230, 233 ; doves and 
larks, 234 ; hares and peacocks, 
239 ; lark, 236 ; Lombard, 
239, mackerel, 273, mushroom, 
269 ; mutton, 270 ; Nor- 
wegian, 227, 228, 231, 232, 
235, 236, 282-3 ; pimpernel, 
226, 227 ; veal, 226, 227 ; 
venison, 269 ; venieon and 
small birds, 229, 232 ; silver, 
230, 236, 326 ; white, 325 ; 
sauce in, 291-2 
Paltry, 234 , 328 ; see Pally 
PaHrycook, 245, 269, 282, 308 
Paul the Deacon, 99 

34 1 


Peas, 2i, 201 ; cretonnee, 252 ; 
daguenets, 234, 328 ; pierced 
201 ; pottage, 223, 250-2 ; 
soup, 226, 230 ; thickening, 260 
Peaches, 244, 297 
Peacocks, 232, 304 
Pears, choke, 296, 300 
Penance, 62, 64, 65, 70, 83 
Peony, 21, 26, 200 
Pepper, 289 

Petrarch, 6, 136, 312, 317 ; tale 
of Griselda, 1 1 3ff 
Picardy, 312 ; pigs salted in, 250 
Pichon, J erome, xv, 3 1 2-20 passim 
Pickerel, 224, 234, 238, 323, 328 
Pickle, 288 

Pierre-au-Lait ; ^Market, milk 
Pigs, consumption in Paris ; and 
French households, 221-2, 323 ; 
hanging, 250 ; to kill, 248 ; 
fluffing for, 284 
Pigling, stuffed, 267-8 
Pike, 224, 323 

Pimpernels, 226, 235, 236, 324 
Pine-kernels, 283, 332 
Pipefarces, see Straws, buffed 
Plaice, 224, 237, 373 
Plum, to graft upon vine, 302 
Poisons, to slay beafts and ver- 
min, 15, 305 
Pommeaulx, 231, 236 
Pork, sausages, 308 ; see Pig 
Porray, 21, 23, 199-200, 274, 313, 
321-2 ; kinds of, 253-5 ; of 
beets, recipe, 254 ; black, 227, 
231, 255; cress, 235, 253; 
white, 253-4; green, 237, 254 ; 
spinach, 264 ; sprouts, 25 5 ; 
white, 228, 229, 253 ; culture 
of, 196 ; see Beets 
Porte-de-Paris, 37, 241, 346 
Portes, 240, 246, 329 ; see Wafers 
Porters, 242 

Pottage, 223, 234, 237, 249, 279 ; 
recipes, 33 ; a salemine, 237 ; 
bean, 223; cabbage, 2 56; 
common, thin and un spiced, 
recipes, 250-2 ; party, 324 ; 
pea, 223, 250-2 ; quartered, 
226, 324 ; spiced, 248, 258, 
295 ; thick, without meat, 
recipes, 267 ; thick meat, 
recipes, 260-7 J thin an< ^ tm- 
spiced, recipes, 258-60 ; yellow, 
267 ; for the sick, recipes, 
294-5 ; ordering of, 46 ; 
breadcrumbs in, 258 ; salt in, 
309 ; verjuice in, 289 ; to 
prevent burning, 223, 248 ; 
to remove tafte of burning, 306 
Poulterer, 240, 243, 246 
Poultry, 212, 222 ; consumption 
of in Royal households, 212 ; 
buffed, recipe, 276-7 ; see 
under Capon, Chicken, Ducks, 

Prayer, 5, 92, 194 ; midnight, 
47-8 ; morning, 4, 44, 47-8, 
49 -50 ; to Our Lady, 47-8, 
49-50 ; to Our Lord, 47-8 
Preserves (comport), 37, 238, 239 ; 
fruit and vegetables, 15 ; 
carrots, 296 ; nuts, 295-6, 299 ; 
parsley and fennel root, 298 ; 
peaches, 297 ; pears, 296 ; 
pumpkins, 296-7 ; quince 
marmalade, 298 

President of King’s Council, 1, 
236, 237, 329 
Presumption, 74, 76, 78 
Prices, of provisions, 239-41, 
244-5 ; of pig’s fry (caul), 309 ; 
of hulled wheat, 275 ; of hire 
of linen, etc,, 246-7 ; of 
water, 247 
Pride, 65-72 



Provence, figs of, 234 
Provins, roses of, 302 
Prowess, 88-9 

Procureur du Roi, 1, 236, 237, 


Puffs, Spanish, 231, 236 
Pumpkins, 198 ; preserved, 296-7 
Puys, 44, 315 

Queen, household of, 37, 22 1 , 222 
Queens of France, correspond- 
ence of, 106 ; do not kiss men, 

Quentin, Thomas, and Quentine, 
Jehanne la, £tor y of, 7, 12, 45, 
189-91, 320-1 

Rabbits, rosey of, 259-60 
Radishes, 200 
Raisins, 244, 298 
Raniolles, 227, 229, 231, 325 
Rapine, 81 
Raspberry, 196 
Rats, to destroy, 213 
Ray, 273 

Raymonde, Duchess, ftory of, 
99-101, 316-7 

Recipes and Household Hints : 
Almonds, milk of, 294 ; batons 
gros, 306 ; beans, frizzled 
( frassSs ), 252-3 ; beverages for 
sick, 293-4 ; black puddings, 
248-50 ; blankmanger, 264 ; 
boar’s tail, 292 ; bochet, 293-4; 
brewet ( see under Brewet) ; 
cabbage hearts, 256 ; cameline 
286-7 5 car P> 2 7 °~ I 5 caudle, 
Flemish, 294 ; chicken, farced, 
coloured and glazed, 209-10 ; 
chicken mould, 295 ; civey, 
hare, 265-6 ; cod (fresh and 
stockfish), 272-3 ; crayfish, 
272 ; cretoneeof peas or beans, 




260-1 ; crisps, 284-6 ; crows, 

309 ; doreures, 275-82 ; eels 
reversed, 271 ; entremets, 

275- 86 ;espimbeche of roaches, 
267 ; fauk grenon, 275-6 ; 
fish, 270-3 ; flawns in Lent, 
278 ; frogs, 281 ; frumenty, 

275 ; galentine for carp and 

ray, 273 289, ; generic, 265-6 ; 
gravy, 259 ; hare, roaft, 309 ; 
hedgehogs, 306 ; herbolace, 
274-5 ; hippocras, 299-300 ; 
jackdaws, 309; jance,290; jelly, 
on fish day, 280 ; on meat day, 
279-80; to make blue, 280; 
lampreys, Gleamed, 271-2, mac- 
kerel, 273 ; magpie, 309 ; meat, 
roafl, 267-9 5 meat 266-7 \ 

milk, to turn, 283 ; larded or 
seasoned milk, 283 ; mortereul, 

276 ; mushrooms, 269 ; mu£t 
for young capons, 291 ; mustard 
286 ; mutton, shoulders of, 

310 ; coloured yellow', 258 ; 
pancakes, Tournay, 285 ; 
parties {see under Pasties) ; 
peel, candied orange, 307-8 ; 
pepper, black and yellow , 289 ; 
pickle for preserving fish, 288 ; 
pigling, buffed, 267-8 ; pom- 
meaulx, 28 1 ; porray ( see under 
Porray) ; pottage {see under 
Pottage) ; poultry, fluffed, 

276- 7 ; with cummin, 261 ; 
preserves, 295-9 {see under 
Preserves) ; ray or skate, 273 ; 
rice, savoury, 277 ; rique- 
menger, 309 ; rissoles, 283-4 ? 
rosey of young rabbits, 259-60 ; 
sage, 300 ; cold, 277-8 ; sauce 
{see under Sauce) ; sausages, 
308 ; saupiquet, 289-90 ; 
snails, 282 ; soringue of eels, 


267 ; sorrel verjuice, 286 ; 
soup ( see under Soup) ; spice 
powder, 298 ; sprouts, 255 ; 
straws, fluffed ( pipefarces ), 2S6 ; 
swan, roafl, 268-9; taillis, 276; 
tart, 278-9 ; tizanne, 293 ; 
turnips, 250, 256-7 ; umbles, 
boars’, 268 ; vinaigrette, 263 ; 
wafers, 305-6 ; fried dishes, 
275-82 ; glazed dishes {see 
doreures) ; burning, to pre- 
vent pottage, 223, 248 ; turn- 
ing, to prevent milk, 248 ; 
hull barley or corn, to, 310 ; 
salt, to make white, 301 ; salt 
meat, 250 ; salt, to take out of 
butter, 309 ; verjuice, at 
ChriAmas, 300 ; wine, care of, 
216-7 ? to raake white red, 
300 ; to separate water from 
305 ; pears, choke, to keep red, 
302 ; rosewater, to make, 
302-3 ; water, for washing at 
table, 299 ; to catch frogs, 
281 ; to catch snails, 282 ; to 
carry carp alive, 225 ; to make 
glue, 301 ; invisible ink, 301 ; 
marking ink, 307 ; kindling for 
fires, 307 ; sand for hour 
glasses, 304 ; to cure tooth- 
ache, 304 ; to cure bite, 305 ; 
to clean clothes, 14, 214-5 ; 
to deflroy ants, 199 ; cater- 
pillars, 201 ; fleas, 14, 173-4 ; 
flies, 14, 174-6 ; mosquitoes, 
174; moths, 14, 214; rats, 
213; to keep flies from a horse, 
309 ; to poison Aag or boar, 
305 ; to slay crows, jackdaws 
and magpies, 309 ; to slay 
foxes and wolves, 212-3 
Repentance, 58 ; see Confession 
Revenge, confession of, 75 

Rice, 276 ; savoury, 226, 227, 232, 
233> 2 35> 2 77 5 for binding, 
284 ; flour of, 246 
Riddles, 8-9, 46 
Rique-manger, 309 
Rissoles, 224, 226, 227, 231, 238, 

283 ; beef marrow, 229, 232 ; 
for fish day, 283, 284, 312 ; for 
Lent, 283 ; for meat day, 

284 ; at court of lords, 284, 
3 12 

Roman de la Rose , Le , 6, 18, 21, 
105, 312 

Roses, 20, 21, 23, 25, 26, 42, 313, 
325 ; to keep in winter, 15, 
203 ; to keep red, 302 ; o± 
Provins, in dresses, 302-3 
Rosewater, 37, 288 ; to make 
without lead alembic, 302 ; to 
make red, 303 

Rosemary, 25, 287, 288 ; culture 
of, 203-4 > see Herbs 
Rosey, 229, 231, 259-60, 325 ; of 
larks, 228 ; of rabbits, 227 
Russell, John, 14, 34, 35, 312, 

3 1 S> 3 2 4 > 3 2 9 > 330 ; see 
Book oj Nurture 

Sacraments, 83 ; see Mass, Con- 
Sacrilege, 78 

Saffron, “ fringing ” with, 263 
Sage, 23, 26, 274, 2 77, 288, 300, 
314 ; cold, 22, 227, 228, 277-8 ; 
in winter, 300 ; culture of, 196 
St Augufline, 312 ; on sloth, 76, 
316, ; on virginity, 94 ; Aory 
of Lucrece, loi ; City of God , 

St Gregory, 312 ; on virginity, 94 
St Jerome, on obedience, in, 
312 ; on sloth, 76, see Lives 
oj the Fathers) 



St Matthew, on vlrginitv, 95 
St Paul, 90 ; on vlrginitv , 94-5 
Saint-Pol, 303, 332 
Salammoniac, 301 
Salemine, 233, 237 ; of broach 
and carp, 235 ; of salmon, 237 
Sally-forth ( Bouie-hors) s 37, 236, 
238, 239 

Salmon, chawdon of, 234, 328 ; 
salemine of, 237 ; see Trout, 

Salt, coarse, 241, 250, 298 ; to 
make white, 15, 301 ; white, 
24, 301 ; to take from butter, 

Salt cellars, 242 

Sand, for hourglasses, 15, 304 ; 

used for keeping roses red, 302 
Sauces, 35, 223, 235, 240, 241, 
286, 291, see Dodine ; recipes, 
33, 272 ; boiled, recipes, 289- 
93 ; not boiled, recipes, 286-8 ; 
for boar’s tail, recipe, 268 ; for 
a capon or hen, recipe, 292, 288 ; 
for chicken, 238, 288 ; for 
young duckling, 270 ; for eggs, 
recipe, 292-3 ; with porpoise, 
238 ; for cold sage, 278 ; of 
salmon, 234 ; spices in, 248 ; 
drained bread, in, 289 ; cold, 
boar’s tail in, 232 ; hot, boar’s 
tail in, 228, 230, 231 ; hot, 
bourreys in, 227, 229, 231, 232, 
2 36 ; hot, lampreys in, 228, 230, 
233 ; hot, umbles in, 233 ; 
cameline garlic, 273, 326 ; 

white or green garlic, recipe, 
287; green, 231, 236, 270; 
green, spice, recipe, 288 ; 
Poitevine, recipe, 291 ; quick, 
for a capon, recipe, 291 ; 
thick, 234 ; recipe, 272 ; 
white, 227, 231, 233, 235 ; 

yellow, recipe, 267 ; yellow 
; pepper, 268, 289 ; with snails, 

j 332 

I Saucemaker, 241, 246 
! Saupiquet, recipe, 289-90 
I Sausages, 223, 226, 227 ; recipe, 
33 ? 308 

1 Scholars, avaricious, 80, 312 
| Scipio's Dream , 180 
j Seasoning, 33, 34 ; see Menus, 

| Recipes, Spices 

1 Seine water, 217, 295 
j Senses, five, 92 

I Sergeant, 121, 122, 123, 125; at 
| feaft, 242, 247 

I Sermons, 93 

I Servants, 8 ; kinds of, 13, 205-9 ? 

| farm, 13, 21 1-2 ; household, 

} 313-9; kitchen, 242-3; sick, 

c are of, 220 ; choice of, 45, 
i 209; in£tra&ions to, 209-11; 

meals of, 218-9, 238 ; for fea£fs, 
38-9, 242-4 ; wages of, 247 ; 
of Duke of Berry, 222 ; see 
Chambermaid, Chaplet maker. 
Cook, Laundress 
Seven Sages of Rome , The, 6, 312, 

Sewe, 251, 253, 256, 257, 261, 
265, 289,290,331 
Sewer, at table, 244, 330 
Seyme, see Gravy 
Shad, 224, 229, 238 
Sheep, see Mutton 
Shift, 50, 315 
Shirt, 172 

Shooting crows, jackdaws and 
magpies, 509 
Simony, 83 

Sins, Seven deadly, 4, 5, 6, 65 ; 
see also Avarice, Envy, Glut- 
tony, Lechery, Pride, Sloth, 



Si£ber, wife addressed as, 41, 15 L *99 > season for porray of, 

169,184,193,194,315 . 255 . X 1 * 

Skate, see Ray ; garlic camelme Stag, poison for slaying, 305 ; 

sauce for, 287 venison of, 250 

Sloth, 65, 75-6, 88, 92 ; branches Stains, to remove from clothes, 
of, 76-8 214-5 

Smock, 129, 130 Steward, 244; see Jehan the 

Snails, to catch, 282 ; recipe, 35, Dispenser 
282, 332 Stockfish, 272-3 

Solar, 218, 323 Straws, ftuffed, 227, 229, 232, 

Sops, 227, 239, 245, 2 57, 324-5 ; 233, 2 35 5 recipe, 286 

capon with, 228 ; tench with, Strife, 68 ; confession of, 7 1 "* 2 
227, 228, 229, 231, 232, Sugar, 241,294, 295, 330; brown, 

235, 236 ; venison with, 228, 287 ; crystallised, 293 ; lump, 

234 246, 299 ; old, 227 

Soringue of eels, 226, 228, 232, Supper, menus for, 36, 245 ; 

238, 263 ; recipe, 267 meat, menus for, 233-4 5 of 

Sorrel, 197, 287, 288 ; see Verjuice M. Helye, 239; of great 

Sorrow, 88 lords, 226 

Soup, 239 ; handy or improvised, Supplications, 238, 240, 329 ; see 
recipe, 257, 331 ; thick, 248 Wafers 

Sowing, 28-9, 195 Swan, 232 ; roatft, recipe, 268-9 

Speech, wrong, 74-5, 83, 84-5, Swearing, 74-5, 80, 210, 322-3 ; 

90, 92, 179-87 ; see Swearing see Speech 

Spicer, 241, 243, 246, 260, 275, Swine, 84 

280, 297 

Spices, 37, 39, 45, 223, 238, 239, 

241, 245, and under Menus and Table, 243; preparation for 
Recipes ; wide use of, 33 ; dinner, 39, 237 ; water for 

served, 238 ; for the chamber, washing hands at, 199 ; coff 

241, 246 ; kitchen, 246 ; of, 243 ; servants at, 244 ; 

small, 246 ; hutch for, 243 ; high, preparation of, 244 
in jelly, pottages and sauces, Talemouse, 230, 233, 326 
248, 258 ; green spice sauce, Taillevant, 32 
see Sauce, Spice powder Taillis, 227, 235, 324 ; recipe, 

Spice powder, 39, 269, 273, 276, 276 

281, 283, 284, 298; see Duke’s Tally, 207, 222 

Powder Tape&ries, 244 

Spinach, 21, 24, 26, 196, 254, Tart, 234, 236, 306 ; recipe, 
274, 278, 314, 321 278-9 ; milk, 232 ; Lombard 

Spit, 268, 271, 277, 281 or Pisan, 227-8, 229, 23 1, 232, 

Sprouts, 201, 256 ; recipe for, 235 ; see Flawns, Talemouse 
255; Lenten, 199; March, Tartlets, 23 5 ; cheese, 240 

34 6 


Temperance, 65, 90-1 
Theft, 81 

Thickening, bread, 253, 260, 261, 
268, 276 ; eggs, 260-1, 276 ; 
peas or beans, 260 
Tile of meat, 228, 230, 236 ; 

recipe, 266-7 
Tierce, hour of, 85 
Tithes, 83 

Tizanne doulce, recipe, 293 
Toothache, cure of, 15, 304 
Torches, 39, 239, 241, 246, 247 
Tournay, 312 ; Bailly of, 7, 44, 
148-9, 318 ; cameiine at, 

286-7 5 money of, 222, 323 ; 
pancakes, 285 
Tournsole, 283 

Trout, red, white, season for, 226 
Turbot a la soucie, 233, 235 
Turnip, 21, 25, 33, 200 ; recipe, 
250, 256-7 ; au soucie, 235 ; 
preserve, 296 

Umbles, 228, 233, 326 ; boars’, 
recipe, 268 
Usury, 82 

Vainglory, 66 ; confession of, 


Van Eyck, Jan, 40 
Vanity, 76, 77 

Vegetables, 21-2, 321 ; lift of, 
313-4 ; planting of, 28-9 ; see 
Porray, Bean, Pea, etc. 

Venice, ftory of wife at, 183-4 
Venison, a la boar’s tail, 234 ; to 
salt, 250 ; see under Menus, 
Recipes, Pafty 

Verjuice, 238, 241, 242, 257, 261, 
2 66, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 
272, 275, 276, 278, 279, 288, 
289 ; white, 286, 287, 290 ; 
breams with, 236 ; for chicken. 

240 ; in gravy, 259 ; to turn 
milk, 283 ; in green porray ; 
254 ; in pottage, 262, 289 ; 
care of, 216, 219 ; at Chiiftmas, 
recipe, 300 ; to clean clothes, 
215 ; to preserve roses, 302 ; 
sorrel, recipe, 286 
Vermin, to deftroy, 214 ; see 
Ants, Fleas, Flies, Moths, 
Mosquitos, Rats 
Vespers, 54 

Vinaigrette, 239, 263 ; arbour, 

Vine, 19, 20, 25 ; arbour, 300 ; 
cherry or plum grafted on, 27, 
202, 203 ; culture of, 196, 
322 ; for grapes without pips, 
202 ; for verjuice at Chrlftmas, 
300 ; shoots, 286 
Vinegar, 242, 255, 257, 262, 263, 
266, 267, 268, 271, 272, 273, 
278, 279, 282, 286, 287, 288 ; 
care of, 216, 219 
Vintner, 38 

Violets, 21-6 passim , 42, 197, 
241, 242; Armenian, 197,322; 
culture of, 196 ; March, 197 ; 
ftrewn on floors, 39 ; as a 
salad or seasoning, 21, 25, 274 
Virginity, 94-5, 105-6 
Virtues, seven cardinal, 4, 65, 86 
Vocabularies , A Volume of \ 313, 
32 i, 333 

Vocabulary, Franco -Flemish, 16, 
18, 312-3 

Wafers, 37, 226, 227, 229, 233, 
2 35> 238, 239, 245, 32 7, 329 ; 
recipes, 305-6 ; cheese, 245 ; 
price of, 240 ; see Eftriers, 
Galettes, Gros baftons, Portes, 



Wafer maker, 240, 245, 246, 306, 

Wagers, on wife’s obedience, 7, 
11, 148-9, 153-8, 318-9 
Wages, 2 1 8, 247 ; of cook, 242 ; 

of gardener, 24 
Walking, 10-1, 50-1, 52 
Washing at table, 238 ; water 
for, 299 

Water, for washing hands, to 
prepare, 299; spring, 295; 
price of, 247 ; to separate from 
wine, 242 ; see Seine 
Watering plants, 195 
Whale flesh, 235, 252, 328 ; see 
Craspois, Graspois 
Wheat, hulled, 246, 275 
Wife, 2-4, 5, 8, 9-10, 1 1-2, 41-5, 
92-3, 107-91, 194, 208-12 
Wimple, 51 

Wine, 37, 39, 239, 243, 245, 263, 
266, 267, 268, 270, 27I, 272, 
275, 278, 279,284, 286 ; good, 
331 ; boiled, 298 ; of Grenache, 
226, 235, 237, 238, 323; 
mulberry, 291 ; red, 288 ; 
white, 288, 290, 294 ; care of, 
15, 216-7, 21 9 ; at wedding 
fea&, 39 ; drawing of, 243 ; 

serving of, 238 ; earthenware, 
pots for, 243 ; in comminee 
de poulaille, 261 ; in gravy, 
259 ; in pottages, 262 ; in 
venison, 250 ; to make white 
red, 300 : to separate water 
from, 305 ; to renovate fur 
with, 215 ; see Clarry, Hippo- 

Wine cellar, 243, 245 
Witchcraft, 171 
Woad, 277, 332 
Wolves, to destroy, 212-3 
Woman who laid an egg, £fory of, 
182-3, 320 ; who let her hus- 
band drown, &ory of, 138-40 ; 
who returned from St James of 
Compoftella, £tory of, 44, 
185-6 ; Roman, ftory of, 44, 
185-6 ; see Chaplet maker. 
Market woman, Milk seller, 
Servants, Wife 

Wrath, 65, 87, 88 ; brandies of 
74 ; confession of, 75 
Wright, Thomas, 26 
Writing, 305 

Yeaft, 306 


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